#At every passing moment I just go throwing more and more physical and mental scars into the characters.

[cosmossnake]

New Eclipse Headcanon!

After Eclipse's back was cracked open because of the Mimic, when he was fixing it, with the help of Monty, since he couldn't do it alone.

It was noted that his endoskeleton was really damaged. So, he had either to replace his entire back endo or get rid of the skyhook, or else it would hurt a lot to just put it back, without having the proper maintenance.

So, he did the latter, thinking it wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass, but he was wrong.

Because it was a part of his body, of course removing it would have consequences, so now sometimes he misses the feeling of the skyhook, and it kinda hurts, like some phantom pain ya' know?

Idk, it was just a silly idea.

[thelampisaflashlight]

A Moment of Respite

[Set back back when Alpha and Omega were still in the band, Dew leaves a party to spend some time outside. Feat. Jeremy and Lamb. I felt like having them interact even though I previously established that they hadn't before. Maybe it's just one of those things Dew doesn't remember from before his elemental change, but who's to say? Not suitable for younger audiences.] Below the cut.

Dew stares at the drink in his hands, cringing at the potent smell of alcohol wafting from the cup over the fizzing cola.

Rum and coke.

A pretty standard drink, hard to fuck up, but definitely not something he generally gravitates towards.

He swirls the liquid around, debating whether or not to take a sip as he takes in the sights and sounds of the party around him.

It's towards the end of the night, so much of the excitement has died down, and it's only a matter of time before people start filing out the door.

Dew would leave with them, if he wasn't already home.

In theory, he could retreat down the hallway to his dorm room, lock his door from the inside, put on his headphones...

He sets his drink down on the back of the couch, where it will probably spill and leave a sticky stain, but he doesn't care really.

Someone will clean it up in the morning or not and it won't really matter.

They'll throw out the couch in a month, or a year, or, fuck, maybe even burn it.

Dew knows he would if he could.

Taking stock of the room, he can see Alpha is already passed out in his favorite chair -the one that smells heavily of piss, even if the fire ghoul insists it "DOES NOT"- and Mist is drawing dicks on his face.

Omega is decidedly... missing.

Truth be told, Dew lost track of the quintessence ghoul halfway through the party, and he wouldn't be entirely surprised to find out he's shacking up with some random sister of sin in a corner somewhere.

He'd walked in on him plowing a nurse from the infirmary one time and had been too embarrassed to look at him after the fact, let alone let him touch him, even if he was bleeding pretty badly.

He worries the line of the now faint scar along his index finger.

Zephyr had stitched him up, between panicking over the blood and cursing his existence, they'd managed to get Dew patched up with shaking hands, swearing more every time the needle skipped in his unsteady fingers.

Of course, Omega found out eventually, and, boy, had that been an interesting conversation...

Taking a deep breath, Dew slips away from the noise of the party and makes his way down the hall, taking the winding corridors back to his dorm room.

Dew's room -little more than a glorified storage closet- sits at the far end of the ghouls' den, next to the stairwell leading up to a little courtyard that's seldom used by the human members of the clergy.

When he's bored at night, Dew likes to go outside and sit on the lone bench posted along the wall and smoke.

Sometimes, one of the ghouls from the other half of the basement, the rehab, will sneak upstairs and sit with him.

They're always good company, even if they don't talk much.

The rehab is...

Well, he's not really sure what it is.

Ghouls from other branches of the ministry wind up there from time to time.

Ferals, strays...

Omega takes care of them with help from one of the human staff members.

Brother Elijah.

It's a sort of "side project" started by Primo for reasons unknown to the masses.

Dew spent a little time there in the past, back when he was first summoned.

He can remember doing a lot of tests, physical, mental, emotional...

"It's just to see where you're at." Omega had assured him, "There's no shame in not being able to do something, I only need to know what you can do so we can help you better."

Creeping up the steps, Dew hears a startled gasp as a lighter falls from above, bouncing off of his head.

"Shit, sorry-"

"Sitting on the wall again?" Dew asks, making eye contact with a scruffy faced man with mismatched eyes, "You're lucky Omega is AWOL, or he'd be lecturing you for being out here alone again, Jeremy."

"I'm not alone." Jeremy says as Dew hops up to sit beside him, noticing a figure crouching beside the other, a single, eerily green eye flicking towards him briefly as its owner pauses their digging in the soil, "Lamb's keeping me company."

"Lamb's not supposed to be out here either." Dew comments, fiddling with the lighter Jeremy dropped a moment ago, "...How are you feeling?"

"Good... Bad." he sighs, running a hand through his newly trimmed hair, "Tired... Stomach hurts."

"Because of the b-" Dew cuts himself off, looking up at the sky, "Well, fresh air helps with that."

"Mn." Jeremy tilts his head towards Dew, and the ghoul shifts closer to let him lean on him, "I wasn't smoking, just so you know."

"...What were you doing?"

Jeremy gestures towards the area where Lamb is digging, "Lighting leaves on fire... They like the smoke."

Dew watches the little ghoul play, "...I should really get you two back inside, it's supposed to get pretty cold. Might even snow."

"Ten more minutes." Jeremy hums, closing his eyes, "The air is so clean out here, feels good."

"Okay... Okay."

They sit in silence, and slowly, but surely, Jeremy's head becomes heavier on Dew's shoulder.

"Ready?"

"...Ready."

[helliontherapscallion]

Surprises (Sweet Betrayal Part 2)

Part 1     Part 3     Part 4

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, alcoholism, abuse (physical and mental), depression, suicidal thoughts

Word count: 3,587

A dash of madness is what’s needed to get things done. It was the thing that caused Manberg to rise from the ashes of its terrible leadership prior to Schlatt, and it was going to be the thing that fixes the aftermath of the meddling of your ‘brothers’. At least that's what you thought on the matter. 

It was a bit hard to form rational thought when reminders of your brothers were everywhere. The buildings that stood populating the city were built by them. The dents and scratches on the wood of the stage were caused by them. Your bloodstain on the concrete was caused by them. The burn scar that took up half of your face and the now clouded blind eye was caused by them. You couldn’t even look in the mirror without being reminded of them; it was like they followed you everywhere you went. Tormenting you with every step you took. With every breath you took you were breathing in the same putrid air they breathed. The air would be purified once you were done with them. 

The only person you actually trusted nowadays was Schlatt. Oftentimes he would yell at you in a drunken rage, telling you that you were useless and undeserving of love. His words hurt you unbelievably, but he would always apologize in the morning. He had hit you occasionally leaving bruises and a fear of anybody moving too fast, but he had always apologized to you so you brushed it off. He was the first person that had shown you actual love after all. He was still the loving man he was before the presidency. 

He would do the same to your other father Quackity. You both comforted each other after he would do that. He confessed to you one night through tears that you were the only thing tethering him to his marriage with Schlatt. It was something you couldn’t understand; why would he ever want to leave Schlatt when he would apologize to you two every single time? It wasn’t like he could control his alcoholism. It had a grip on him that he couldn’t shake. 

You weren’t there when Quackity had killed Schlatt, as you were roaming the streets of Manberg at the time, but you were there when he ran into you in a panic. 

You were walking past Niki’s deserted bakery with a skip in your step and a smile on your face. The sight of the broken glass and the looted remains of the building took away most of the stress that living in and governing Manberg brought you. The citizens and the cabinet had grown distrustful of you and Schlatt, making it hard for you to get any work done. You had taken up most of the responsibilities of the presidency due to Schlatt falling off the deep end with his alcoholism and truth be told everything was stressing you out. You needed to keep smiling, you’re never fully dressed without one. 

You came to a halt in front of the bakery, your hand reaching up to graze the scarred skin on the right side of your face. The once relaxed smile that gently stretched your lips turned strained. ‘Don’t cry, you’re never fully dressed without a smile!’ A soft voice sang in your mind, his light laughter reminiscent of happier times. He would not be happy with the path you’ve taken. Oh well, you liked who you were now; he just needs to put up with it when you see him again.

Your thoughts were interrupted by something, or rather someone, colliding with you. You were about to fall onto the glass-strewn pavement before someone caught you and pulled you into a tight embrace. You couldn’t see who it was, but their jacket smelled like a mixture of blood and cologne. Their shoulders were bouncing as they sobbed into your shoulder. Papá?

You felt his wings embrace you fully, much like they did during the festival. You awkwardly rubbed his back until he calmed down enough to pull away from you. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, face blotchy, and a swollen lip graced his face. Your dad was probably just drunk again. 

You tried your best to smile at him gently, the smile threatening to falter. “Papá? Is Dad drunk again?”

“We have to get you out of here, mijo.” He tried to grab your hand to pull you with him but you moved it out of the way. You needed to know what was happening. You didn’t like not knowing what was happening.

“Why do you have blood on you, where are you bleeding?” Schlatt’s never made you or Quackity bleed before, so this was new. He was probably drunker than he usually was. 

You watched as his dark brown eyes flicked down to his bloodied hands and clothes before they flicked back up looking more panicked. “It’s not mine. C’mon, we need to get out of here.”

This time, he firmly grabbed your hand and started to pull you towards the borders of Manberg. Towards Pogtopia. You weren’t ready to enact your plans for the brothers yet, so you dug your heels into the ground. That didn’t stop the man, in fact he pulled you close to his body and spread his wings to take off into the cloudy sky. Before he could, you pushed him away. 

“Papá, who’s blood is it?” You already knew, your voice was shaking and the smile had completely faded. Surely, he couldn’t be dead again, right? Quackity’s face told you all you needed to know. Schlatt was dead. 

Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you whispered “what happened?”

“He- it doesn’t matter. Come with me, I’m leaving this place,” he spat out the last word with hatred. “It isn’t too late for you, Pogtopia-”

“Pogtopia? You’re seriously going to that pathetic excuse of a ‘country’?” You barked out a somewhat forced laugh, the smile finding its rightful place on your face. “Are you stupid? Why would you ever leave a nation as prosperous as Manberg?”

“Can’t you see? Look around you, this nation’s crumbling under Schlatt’s rule! How is that ‘prosperous’?”

“Did you hit your head or something? Our nation’s thriving under Schlatt’s leadership!”

“He isn’t even fucking leading! All he’s doing is getting drunk off his ass having you do all the dirty work! He’s using you, (y/n).”

“Shut the fuck up Quackity,” he flinched back slightly at the use of his first name being thrown about, “Dad’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and you, you’re so stupid to just throw him away when he needs us the most.”

He put his hands on your shoulders and gripped them tightly to avoid you ripping yourself out of his grasp. He looked you dead in the eyes with the most sincerity you’ve ever seen from someone. “(Y/n), we tried to help him. We did our best, but he’s too far gone. He isn’t the person we knew; the presidency no, this nation, changes people. If you stay, he’s gonna… You have to come with me to Pogtopia. Your brothers-”

“They aren’t my brothers.”

“-Wilbur, Tommy, and everyone else that used to live in Manberg is on their side. You’ll get killed if you stay.”

You tilted your chin up and looked down at him with cold eyes and your signature smile. “Then so be it. I will see to it that anyone cowardly enough to run when things get the slightest bit tough will be taken care of,” his grip on your shoulders loosened for a moment in shock at your words. That was all the time you needed, you ripped yourself out of his grip and turned to walk away leaving the devastated man in your wake. You stopped and turned your head to look at him through the corner of your good eye, “I suggest you run as far as you can, P- Quackity. It would be a shame if I had to kill you if you stayed a second longer. Get the hell out of my nation, traitor.” With that you turned back around and started walking again. After a few seconds, you finally heard him move. 

“I’ll be back for you, I promise. I-I love you, mijo.” You heard the ruffling of feathers and the batting of wings behind you as he left Manberg. The smile on your face was wobbly and weak as tears started to slip out of your eyes. You took a second to compose yourself before you broke off into a sprint towards the White House, passing a few Rutabagaville members and Badlanders stopping to look at you in confusion. Your dad needed you.

After that, you slowly began to question Schlatt’s words, especially when he was drunk. Now that you paid attention, he never said that he loves you anymore. He only had you do his work, the only things he would talk to you about anymore was about the upcoming war and how useless you were as he berated the paperwork you had no idea how to do. There were no more talks about how you mattered, no more side hugs, hair tousles, or soft headbutts, nothing. Maybe he was using you after all. 

So here you were, standing in front of his office with a shaking hand hovering over the oak doors. The smile on your face was incredibly forced, feeling painful for holding it for so long. Just as you mustered the courage to knock on the ram hybrid’s door, it swung open to reveal the hybrid himself.

Your father was swaying on his feet as he looked at you in surprise, “I thought I gave you the night off. Ender, can’t even get your own schedule right? Why’re you even working for me?” You could smell the alcohol on his breath and it reeked. You shrunk in on yourself slightly eyeing the bottle in his hand. The last time he yelled at you he smashed you in the head with it. You forgave him obviously, but it left you with fear whenever you saw a glass bottle in his hand. It happened only last week shortly after Quackity left. The gashes it left on your face and head were still healing. 

Since Quackity left and he went through yet another death, Schlatt had become more irritable, paranoid, and violent. He started yelling at and hitting you more, crying and begging afterwards for you to forgive him. He promised that he’d never do it again, but he always did. You always forgave him in the end because he was the only one that loved you and the only one that you actually talked to anymore. You craved any type of physical touch from your adoptive dad at this point, you didn’t care if it was violent or not. Any touch was a happy touch.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you Dad, but I was wondering if you wanted to hang out with me tomorrow for my birthday.”

“Birthday? BIRTHDAY?” He barked out a drunken laugh, his words slurring together. “You want me, the leader of a nation during a fucking war, to take a second off just because of one day that never should’ve happened?”

You fiddled with your fingers and shuffled your feet, struggling to keep the trace of a smile on your face. You couldn’t lie, that one stung a bit. If you didn’t know any better, you’d compare it to how you were treated at your previous family’s home. You’d never compare Schlatt to those cowards though. He was far better than them. “I’m sorry Dad, but I just thought that I’d celebrate it this year, I’m turning six-.”

“Awe, is it gonna hurt your wittle feewings if I told you that I don’t care? Wake up, (y/n). We’re in the middle of a war. We don’t have time to celebrate anything. You and I are working tomorrow. Now get out of my face before I fire your sorry ass for unprofessionalism and misconduct.”

“Okay, goodnight Dad. Love y-” before you could finish, the door was slammed in your face. You could hear him laughing and mumbling incoherently to himself from behind the thick oak doors. Sighing, you turned around and walked straight into your office. You took out a rope from your desk drawer and stared at it blankly. 

It’d be so easy to off yourself again. If you made the noose properly unlike last time, your neck would snap and you’d be killed immediately instead of slowly suffocating. No one would stop you, no one would care. Schlatt would. He loved you like you were his biological kid. You fantasized that as you were about to jump off your desk that he’d open your door and attempt to apologize before he would realize what was going on and comfort you. He’d hold you like he did before he won the election telling you that your life mattered. You’d give anything for that to happen, but in the deepest darkest corner of your mind you knew that it’d never happen. He’d just drown himself in alcohol not realizing what’s happening in the room down the hall. Hell if anything, Karl would be the one to find your hanging corpse as he had a meeting with you first thing in the morning.

Besides, you had to live to carry out your plan to murder Tommy and Wilbur. You obviously wouldn’t be able to kill Philza or Technoblade because the former is immortal and the latter is, well he’s Technoblade (though you have been talking to Dream more lately. Maybe you could ask for a favor). That didn’t worry you; they’d probably kill you on sight once they’ve heard that their precious boys have been brutally murdered by you. You didn’t care if they killed you afterwards, your mission would be complete. It’d be a devastating blow to the family (if you could even call it that at that point, it’d be just father and son), something that’ll take them a while to recover from. 

You put the rope back into your desk drawer and curled up onto the couch you had in the corner of your office. Wrapping yourself in the blanket you kept in a filing cabinet drawer, you quickly passed out.

The next day felt just like another day. You woke up, put on your suit, and started on some paperwork that you had to complete before the end of the day. You didn’t feel any different, it was just another day of trying to keep this nation afloat during wartime while juggling two jobs at once. Schlatt was right, your birthday was just another day. You felt silly for confronting him about it last night. It was stupid of you to do, all you could hope now was that he’d forgive you.

A knock on the door made you look up and plaster a smile onto your face. “Come in.” Karl’s messy mop of brown hair came into view before he did. Like usual, he had a dopey grin on his face and was wearing that ender awful hoodie. You hated that hoodie, it was unprofessional to wear in such an important government building. It looked like he was wanting to say something, he looked slightly anxious. Looking back down at your work, you quickly reorganized it. “Good morning, Mr. Jacobs. I’m assuming you’d like to walk and talk?”

“How-”

You walked over to him with a smile, “I can read people’s body language pretty well. Now let’s start our meeting. It’s not like we have all day.”

You both walked through the halls of the White House talking about what you usually talked about in meetings; progress reports, the extent of which Pogtopia is expanding, and brainstorming ideas on how to take the rebelling country down. The entire time he was casually throwing around jokes of which you would reply with a ‘stop messing around’ and quickly reel the conversation back in. Eventually, he stopped dead in his tracks in front of a spare room you and Schlatt used for storage. It was relatively empty inside with the exception of a few boxes. 

“Karl, why have you stopped? We still have much more to discuss before our meeting’s over.”

“Open the doors.”

“Wha-”

“Just do it! You’ll like what’s on the other side, I promise.” You eyed his excited smile suspiciously before you sighed, “fine, I guess I’ll entertain you just this one time. Don’t expect me to-” you cut yourself off as you saw what was behind the door. 

Grinning faces stared back at you. Each member of the Badlands and Rutabagaville were in the cramped little room. Well, it was cramped for Bad and Sam with their heights, the rest of them fit just fine. In Bad’s hands was a homemade cake with neat letters printed on the top in your favorite color. It read ‘happy 16th birthday (y/n)!’. 

You were frozen as Karl put a hand on your shoulder and gently nudged you inside the room closing the door behind him. You stayed frozen as they started to sing happy birthday to you, Karl and Sapnap competing to sing the highest note at the end of it. You stayed frozen as they looked at you expectantly waiting for you to blow out the candles. 

“Well? You gonna blow out the candles, gem?” Skeppy gestured with a hand to the cake, the flames’ light being bounced off his ridgid skin in a slight rainbow. 

“I-I don’t- We don’t have time for this, we’re in a war. I’ve got a lot of paperwork to do-”

“Nothing’s gonna happen if we celebrate for an hour,” Sam gently told you, “the paperwork can wait.”

“Yeah, you’re still a kid; you deserve to at least have an hour dedicated to you on your birthday,” Ant told you.

 You stayed there looking at them skeptically, you remembered how they looked at you during the festival. However unlike their looks of fear and disbelief they all wore during the festival, they were looking at you with warmth and empathy. You honestly didn’t know what to do, you haven’t celebrated your birthday since… well since him. By Ender, you missed him. 

“C’mon, imagine the fire is your enemy! Blow em out! Blow em out!” Skeppy chanted, the others joining in with encouraging smiles. Bad looked like he wanted to scold them for trying to pressure you, but he eventually joined in as well placing a giant clawed hand on your shoulder with a gentle smile and a nod towards the cake.

You hesitantly leaned forward and blew the candles out. The plumes of smoke that drifted off from the burnt wicks reminded you of the cigarettes Schlatt would smoke. The men in the room cheered with Ant gently patting your shoulder and Karl, Sapnap, and Skeppy cheering the loudest. Sam was clapping and giving you the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen from the creeper hybrid and Bad put his hand on your head and ruffled your hair. You could feel your forced smile turning genuine as you felt a warm joy bubble in your gut and spread through your body for the first time in years. 

“Good job, muffin! What’d you wish for?”

You craned your neck to look up at the demon in confusion, “I was supposed to wish for something?”

“Yeah! Haven’t you done this before?”

“No, can’t say I have. Am I supposed to wish for something now or am I too late?”

“It’s never too late, muffin. Go ahead, wish for something,” Bad gave you a small smile. You nodded and stared at the cake intensely raking your brain for something to wish for. The only thing that you truly wanted was for Tommy and Wilbur to finally die and for Technoblade and Philza’s lives to be ruined. That was the only way you’d be happy, so you opened your mouth only to have a frantic Skeppy cut you off, “no! If you say it out loud, it won’t come true!”

“Alright, I’ll keep it to myself then.” 

After you ate some cake (it’s been a while since you’ve had the sweet, it was tastier than you remembered), you tried to glance at the clock only to be blocked by Ant, “relax, Schlatt’s out today. You can spend as much time here as you want.”

“He’ll find out, my Dad’s been stressed lately. I-”

“Kid, you work your ass off twenty four seven. You’re almost never out of your office.”

“Language Sapnap! But… he has a point though. You need a break. You shouldn’t have to worry about this kind of stuff, you’re still a kid.”

“Loosen up a bit! I’ll put on some music, what do you usually listen to?” Karl grinned widely at you gesturing to the jukebox in the corner of the room. You saw some records laying around on top of one of the boxes. It looked like there was a full collection of them. 

“I don’t usually listen to music. I don’t really have the time for it, but uh, you can pick out anything as long as it’s not Cat or Mellohi.” You hated those discs with a burning passion. It was like you could still hear the muffled medlies drifting through the walls in your childhood home. 

Once Karl put on a disc, some fast paced harmonized notes sounded from the machine. 

“Let’s fuckin party!” Sapnap shouted.

“Language!”

General taglist:

@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii  @satansphatass  @bxkubitch  @bxmentchildxx  @roxy3457  @montygator17  @feverish-dove  @the-fictionwriters-hairdo  @jichuuchaeng  @404rynnotfound  @luluwinchester  @laura--444  @the-cult-classic-bitch  @youngstarfishdinosaur

[hangezoeenthusiast]

You're Not My Dad Anymore (Part 3 of Papa)

Part 1 Part 2

fem!daughter!reader

word count: 1012

person: c!schlatt, c!quackity, c!karl, c!sapnap

warnings: fighting, cursing, bruises, blood, yelling, alcohol, cigars, grave

synopsis: you were loved, you were cherished, then someone left, and other people replaced that person, and you didn't like that.

(This series is kinda hurting me to write, because one, i have school, and second, my dad was a drunk and hurt my mom, he's not a drunk anymore, but he is still kinda a bad person, don't ask, or do, i really don't really care :/)

It was morning. You were walking along the path with Tubbo, talking about random stuff, when you got a little surprise. It was Schlatt, drunk off his face, looking like shit.

"Oh my goodness, seriously, in the morning?" you thought. Ever since that little moment downstairs in your own home, Schlatt throwing a glass behind you, bruising you physically, you've been offish.

“Schlatt seriously has a big problem.” said Tubbo. You were concerned, he was drunk more than he was sober, even during important meetings.

You were also scared of him, scared about what he was going to do to you, or your papa, or someone else. He came home drunk almost everyday, but he didn't do anything to you. He would just mumble to himself about random stuff, imaginary friends surrounding him, talking to him while drinking whiskey and smoking cigars.

“Dad, hey Dad, come over here!” you yelled. You didn’t catch his attention, and he straight up ignored you.

He was dragging his legs while he walked, his hands fumbling with nothing but the beef bottle in his hands. He was going to the big cobblestone tower that had a view of the whole place.

While being drunk came with a lot of disadvantages, there was one advantage of being drunk for a certain peoples.

While he being drunk, distracted, Pogtopia snuck in. They had gotten into Manburg, and beforehand they had planned a certain something. They were going to overthrow Schlatt in his tryanny.

So they snuck into the place, with no sign of a break in, gathered all their items that could help and invaded the nation.

-

Arrows fired. People bleeding. People throwing water on themselves as to not burn to death. All of these challenges and more, and it all lead to something great. Pogtopia won the war, Manburg turned back to L’Manburg again, Schlatt defeated by his own drunkness.

Everyone was here, the badlanders, to Dream and his little crew, to even Technoblade, who swore not to be involved in governments. Everyone saw how Schlatt was a terrible leader, and that he didn’t deserve to be one.

You all was gathered around Schlatt, holding his beer bottle, not fully aware about what’s happening. Schlatt knew that he was defeated, he just didn’t want to accept it.

He was whispering under his breath, saying how Quackity and Tubbo were traitors, horrible, horrible things when he saw you. His daughter, looking horrified about what he did, and what he looks like, and what he has become.

He became overfilled with sadness, he failed his own daughter, had hurt her physically over a stupid bottle of beer, placing marks on her. His own boyfriend who he had hurt, physically and mentally. He failed everyone who had ever loved him, if anyone actually loved him.

When he was saying his last goodbyes and “fuck yous” to everyone around him, his last words that anyone would every hear was...

“I’m sorry Y/n, I failed you.”

He did indeed fail you, he had hurt the ones you loved, especially your papa who was with you for the most of your life. You were in despicable awe on how he said I’m sorry to you even when he hurt you.

When it came down in the end with Schlatt, there was five moods you felt with him.

The first was happiness, the fluffy moments where he would make you laugh, make you a stupid nickname, or even doing the most simple things with him.

Angry, where he would come home drunk, threaten you to give him beer, him drunk in the morning, finding out that he hurt Quackity that time you found him with his wings banged up, covered with blood.

Sadness, because you figured out that he wouldn’t change for the better after he threw the glass at you.

Denial, because you thought Schlatt was a good guy, wouldn’t do anything harmful or damaging to anyone, wouldn’t scar anyone.

The last was acceptance, acceptance that he would stay the same, him being drunk every single hour of every single day, of every single week, and so on. That he would keep on apologizing to you after he threatened you physically. That he would never be your dad again. That your dad died as soon as he started hurting your papa.

You regretted accepting him into your life, for letting him date Quackity. For telling him that he was your dad.

So when he had the heart attack, and passed away, you accepted it. He was a bad person, well, at least his real personality didn’t show up until everything was going to shit. After his burial, even though he didn’t deserve it to the likes of the others, you visited him.

You went to his grave, and crouched over it. “Why Schlatt, why did you do that to papa? What was the motive, do you hate him, did he do something wrong, did I do something wrong.”

You put your hand on top of his new gravestone that was just placed a few minutes before. “Dad, I mean Schlatt, you don’t know how much shit you caused, I mean first, you casted out Wilbur and Tommy, that was a stupid idea, then you turned L’Manburg into a dystopia, and you hit papa, you threatened me, the ones you loved.”

You sniffled, “Schlatt, you majorly fucked up, but for some reason I still love you.”

You started to get up from your place, starting to walk away from this place for the dead, “Schlatt, I’ll still love you, a part of my heart goes to you, but I can’t love you because of papa, the things you did, I can’t accept.”

“That’s why I’m never coming back to your grave. I’m sorry.” You walked away from Schlatt’s grave with despair. What you didn’t notice, and what no one else would notice for a long period of time, it was Schlatt, who had pale skin and see-through. After you left, he spoke quietly to himself, “I love you too little Y/n.”

(This part was kinda rushed, a little bit bad)

taglist under here

@ilyimagines @puffed-up-bees @iminpainahh @smolbox-png @y2kluver @vanhakirja @acecarddraws @luluwinchester

[thefanficmonster]

Deep Breaths

Valkyrae x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Panic Attack, Mentions of past domestic abuse, Mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, Swearing

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst to Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having received a call from the correctional facility where their alcoholic/drug addict mother is being kept, Y/N gets some intense nightmarish flashbacks to a time that still haunts them despite a decade having passed. Luckily their girlfriend Rae is there to comfort therm.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request, I hope I captured what you wanted to read! Sorry it has taken me so long to complete and post the fic, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Love, Vy ❤

“Hey Y/N, I-“ One step in the living room and that’s all it took for Rae to pick up on the melancholic mood in the room. 

Her partner hasn’t even noticed she’s entered. Instead, they are sitting hunched over on the couch, elbows on knees, hand seeking their hands’ support to stay upright and their eyes hiding a thousand yard stare that’s got Rae worried sick.

“Babe, what’s wrong?“ She asks softly, inching closer to the couch to take a seat next to Y/N, “You can tell me anything, you know that, right?“

Through the fog surrounding their brain, they somehow manage to catch onto Rae’s words, forcing themself to give her at least a nod in response as to not scare her with their unresponsiveness. They can’t bring themselves to speak, it’s too hard on them to even think of what to say let alone spit it out, especially when their chest feels like it’s caught fire and their mind is still going haywire, heartbeat thumping in their ears as the adrenaline rush refuses to cease.

“Hey, look at me...“ Instead of sitting down, Rae ducks down in front of Y/N, taking their hands in hers, almost wincing at how cold they were. “Tell me what’s bothering you, baby.“

The girl is trying her best not to freak out or lose her cool, despite her already quickened heartbeat she can hear in her ears. She has every right to be reacting the way she is. Her permanently happy, bubbly, optimistic and cheerful partner who always seems to be as energized as though they’d just had a gallon of coffee is now a pale ghost sitting statue-still, staring off into the void with eyes that look empty yet terrified simultaneously.

Y/N’s mouth falls open as though they want to say something but the words die out somewhere along the way, refusing to leave their mouth and give them the relief of sharing their pain with the only person they trust limitlessly.  “I-...“ They finally manage to find their voice though their gaze is still avoiding hers, “I got a call from the correctional facility where....” They trail off, a bitter taste forming in their mouth, making their stomach turn and bite the inside of their cheek as they feel the urge to throw up start to become unbearable. “She wants to s-see me...”

They don’t need to say anything else, Rae’s already connected the dots and her complexion has gone just as pale as theirs. She knows how sensitive and triggering this topic is for Y/N, how many bad memories are tied to this one person in their life. To make matters worse, they’re the one person who was supposed to take care of them yet she couldn’t even take care of herself - Y/N’s mother.

Rae distinctly remembers the night Y/N told her the truth about their family life - or the lack thereof - almost a year since the two had started dating. Rae never questioned their secretiveness and respected their privacy enough not to ask about it, patiently waiting for them to tell her on their own time and own terms. It was no secret even from the very start that Y/N had a very hard time connecting to people and trusting them. It took them maybe two or so months to be able to call their now-girlfriend a friend instead of an acquaintance. Rae didn’t question that too, didn’t push to pursue a friendship with them since, from her point of view, they were already her friend, so she patiently waited for them to come around and start trusting her enough to accept her within their tightknit circle of trusted people called ‘friends’. 

Things progressed from purely platonic to sweetly romantic a little more quickly which pleasantly surprised Rae. The two were quick to grow to be inseparable though that didn’t mean Y/N gave up all their secrets. The darkest one, which happens to be this one regarding their mother, is the one they hid the longest and the last one they had to share with their girlfriend.  The night they did tell it was a very emotional one: plenty of tears were shed by both Y/N and Rae but luckily they had each other’s embrace to seek comfort in and protect themselves from the ghosts and demons of a past Y/N spent so much time running away from.

An abusive parent is not a bit of baggage you can just get rid of. It’s something that weighs so heavy on you and is such a big part of who you are that you can feel it as a part of you. It haunts you no matter how much you try to run or hide. It’s not something you can shake off or forget. You might have physical and visible scars from the time spent with said parent or the trauma can be entirely psychological - regardless, it lives within you. Follows you around, raises questions you’re not sure you want answered, degrades you - making it seem like what happened was your fault in one way or another - it destroys you slowly very time something triggers a memory of that time, be it a simple conversation that has nothing to do with the subject or be it the glimpse you accidentally catch in the mirror of a scar on your body - a scar you remember being inflicted on you like it was yesterday.

That’s how Y/N’s been living. Feeling responsible, feeling unloved, feeling chained to their past. They’ve done all in their power to appear unbothered and let it be visible, not even when around Rae since they don’t want to worry her.

But seeing as their past has caught up to them now and they inevitably have to face it, they’re forced to let it show, they couldn’t hold it in even if they tried. Although they don’t wanna play the unbothered, unfazed part any longer. They have been strong on their own for far too long and it’s taken a toll on them. If they keep up with the act, they’ll be completely and utterly crushed.

Not that they’re feeling any better at the moment.

“Stay with me, Y/N. Stay with me. Keep your eyes on me, ok? Take deep breaths. Deep breaths, baby. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. It’s ok. You’re ok.“ Their short-circuiting brain has been spasming under the influence of the adrenaline, anxiety and panic brought on by the memories of every time they felt small and helpless while at the merciless hand of their alcoholic, drug addict abusive mother, begging to be spared the pain of being hit with whatever object the deranged woman could get her hands on - yet somehow, Rae’s voice still reaches them through all that messy dark fog. “Come on, Y/N, stay with me ok? Please don’t do this, I’m right here, there’s no need to be afraid,”

“I...“ they can barely hear their own voice over the racing of their heart, “I don’t...I don’t wanna go....“ is all they manage to say, a tear falling from their eye.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to go. We won’t go. Your mental health is the most important thing here, Y/N. We’re not going and that’s final.“ Rae replies vigorously, tightening her hold on Y/N’s hands.

Despite the state they’re in, Y/N can’t help but take notice of the use of the word ‘we’, Rae’s reminder that they are not alone, that she’s there for them and will not let them go into this alone. That brings a small smile to their face, calming their heart and panic ever so slightly, “N-no, I have to. It...it’ll help me.” They sigh before attempting to express themself again, “It’ll give me...closure, I guess.”

Seeing that Y/N’s doing a bit better, Rae’s hand move to cup their face instead, pushing the stray strands of hair away for their features to be full exposed to her, especially their eyes, “Are you sure you want that? Can you handle it? It’s not supposed to be your obligation, Y/N. I mean, the woman’s a monster and she hasn’t even thought to contact you in half a decade, and now she suddenly wants to get back in contact? She has the audacity to disturb you after all this time? You don’t have to agree to this, Y/N.”

Y/N shakes their head, “No, no, I want to. I want to agree to this. I want to live a normal life, Rae. I want to leave her and all she did to me behind. And I can’t do that if I keep running away. What happens when I stop to catch my breath? It still catches up to me like I made no progress whatsoever. That’s not a way to live, not the way I wanna live, at least.”

Rae nods slowly, fully understanding what Y/N is referring to. She maybe hasn’t said anything about it ever, but she’s always seen that little bit of darkness behind the happiness and excitement Y/N always displayed. Rae’s heart ached every time she caught glimpse of those little signs Y/N was putting on a performance while actually hurting on the inside. 

And if a meeting with their mother was what would help them finally fully embrace a happy life, then who was she to stop them.

“Ok.“ The girl sighs, “Ok, we’ll go see her, but only if you’re 100% sure you’ll be able to handle it.“

They shake their head again, sighing with unease, “I can never be 100% sure, my emotions have a tendency of being unpredictable so I’ll just have to pray I don’t have a breakdown or a panic attack.”

Rae swipes her thumb over their cheekbone wiping the tear that just escaped their eye, “If you do, don’t worry, I’ll be right there. You know the drill: squeeze my hand, take deep breaths and most importantly, don’t forget I’m there for you. Ok?”

Y/N nods their head, the small smile reappearing on their face. They squeeze Rae’s hand and take a long inhale. “Hand squeeze, deep breaths, noted.” They say when their eyes meet hers, “Thank you so much, Rae. Thank you so much for putting up with me and all my shit and thank you so much for never giving up on me no matter how much work I am or how hard dealing with me and my demons becomes.”

Rae’s heart stings at Y/N’s words, tears brimming her eyes when she raises a bit on her knees to press her lips against Y/N’s forehead. “Don’t thank me, angel. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you and I never want to get gratitude for it. Love doesn’t ask for gratitude, and neither do I.”

Y/N lets out a small laugh to cover up an emotional sob that escapes their lungs. “I love you, Rae.” They say with a trembling voice.

“I love you too, Y/N.“

This time, the Y/N’s lips met the lips of their girlfriend, reminding themself that their safe haven isn’t a place, it’s a person - their girlfriend who means the world to them.

[tothemeadow]

Commissioned by @tanjhero​

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

- Being the Flame Pillar’s tsugoku is no easy task; saving his brother, however, proves to be something else entirely. - 

warnings: mentions of blood, angst

words: 2.5k

-

Burning hearts, brilliant eyes, wishes that never come true. There’s almost something beautiful in sorrow, the slight glimpse of light in the vast darkness. To be a demon slayer, one must bury their heart. They have to hide it under lock and key, learn how to forget what crying feels like. You’ve always carried this ideology close to your heart ever since you started your training as a young adolescent.

Six years have then since passed, and the Final Selection is well behind you. Ragged scars cover your arms, chest, and back, all trophies from your brutal battles with blood-hungry beasts. Demons, to be precise; you see ragged, glinting teeth in the night, in the hours of the day when you’re finally allowed to dream. Whatever the reason, whatever the cause, these teeth seek to ravage you, to sink into your skin and rip your throat out.

The world is dark. You’ve long since grown cold, refusing to properly feel anything. To be emotional is to be distracted; if you wanted to survive, for others to survive, you cannot afford to deal with such interruptions. This is the very reason why your mentor – the gracious Flame Pillar himself, Rengoku Kyojuro – always struck you as odd. Like the sun itself, he’s full of light and eternal brightness.

You’ve never been more jealous of someone in your life.

You train by his side, let him whip you into proper shape. Being a tsugoku is no easy task; both mentally and physically draining, you’re often left scrambling for any sensation left in your numb fingertips. Although your body suffers from the constant thrum of pain, you are strong. You don’t take your strength lightly, and neither does your mentor.

As time and his persistent nature eat away at your skeptical brain cells, he’s more or less become a friend. Much to your initial displeasure, you allowed him to root himself to you. However, as you grew stronger, wiser, your heart did so as well. Kyojuro, this dear man, has cracked open the safe of your heart. With each rising sun, you envision him, his dazzling smile, his abnormal irises. It’s the first time in your life you’ve been blessed.

The days grow into something long and dark whenever you train with him. He doesn’t give up, refuses to let you to wipe away the sweat at your brow, keeps going and going until you’re a trembling mess at his feet. He’s to make a slayer of you yet.

Some days, you consider yourself lucky. Kyojuro is a soft man despite the hard cording of muscle covering his skeleton. Sometimes, his gaze melts into something akin to honey, dangerously sweet and tempting. He’ll call training off early, opting to massage your weakened muscles and guide you through breathing exercises. You don’t take these treatments lightly; after all, Kyojuro is a Pillar, a highly respected one at that. To have a pathetically weak tsugoku will only bring shame onto his namesake.

And, if he’s really in a giving mood, he’ll insist you spend the night at his residence.

Already well fed and bathed, you dismiss Kyojuro with a tight-lipped smile and a prayer for his safe return. He explained that he and his father were to travel into town and seek out the beloved liquor his father adores so much. Although his face is stoic, you can see the pain and disappointment in the depths of his eyes. Like himself, Rengoku Shinjuro is a man deserving respect – or at least used to be. Since the passing of his wife, he’s been drowning his sorrows (amongst all other emotion humanly possible) until he sees the bottom of the bottle.

You find solace in your room, wet hair unceremoniously thrown over your shoulder. Like your father and grandfather, you wear your hair long; the one true tradition that’s been passed down your bloodline for generations. Even as shorter hairstyles become widely accepted, your clan refused to do so, following the old rule of cutting hair once one was shunned. You lose yourself in thought, mindlessly combing through hair with a comb made out of bone.

It isn’t the first time you’ve stayed in the Rengoku household, but you always find yourself drawing hesitant. Kyojuro’s own room sits right down the hallway, a silent temptation that you never give into. To do so would be disrespectful to your kind mentor, even downright inappropriate. Mentor and tsugoku was a strictly former relation – nothing more. You’d be damned if you stepped out of line.

A slight knock at the door stirs your curiosity. Kyojuro and Shinjuro have yet to return from their shopping trip despite the sky being cloaked in an ominous purple. Instead, you’re greeted by Senjuro, Kyojuro’s younger brother. Like the other two – and the rest of the males in his bloodline – he sports the fire crackle hair, the robust eyes. The entire Rengoku clan has been blessed by the sun, by fire, since the beginning of time. You’re not good friends with Senjuro, by you’re way past the line of casual acquaintances.

You glance to the cheesecloth in his hands, your eyebrow raising itself in a silent question. Senjuro sends you a cheeky smile, though the edges are tinged with nervousness. It startles you just how much he resembles Kyojuro. As you beckon him to enter, you set your comb down and tell him to join you on the futon.

“Aniki and father aren’t back yet,” Senjuro tells you as he sits down. “And I figured… Well, maybe… If it was okay for us to hang out?”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. Senjuro’s always been like this, awkward yet exceptionally kind. As he unwraps the cheesecloth, you’re greeted by the sight of plump grapes and rice crackers.

“I know we already had dinner, but sometimes Aniki and I sit around with some snacks and talk about everything.” Senjuro’s smile grows at the mention of his brother; you find it extremely endearing. “And you’re always nice to me, so I thought that we could…” His sentence trails off into nothing and he worries his bottom lip.

You promptly pick a grape from the bunch and pop it into your mouth. Its sweet flavor erupts on your tongue and you hum in appreciation. “Thank you for the treat.”

The nervousness in Senjuro’s smile melts away. “I watched you and Aniki train earlier. You’re incredible,” he gushes. “It’s no wonder why you’re Aniki’s tsugoku!”

You wave off his compliment with a dismissive hand. “First you bring me food, then you flatter me; is there an ulterior motive to this?” you tease.

With a slight giggle, Senjuro shoves at your shoulder. “I just wanted to be in your company, that’s all.”

You find the gesture to be incredibly sweet. As you ponder on his words, you realize that Kyojuro must be busy all the time, attending to his work as a Pillar, and Shinjoru spends almost every waking moment getting drunk. “Look at you, being the charmer,” you throw his way. “You definitely take after your brother.”

Senjuro visibly perks up at your words. “Really? You think so?”

You chuckle at his excited response. “Yes, really. I think you’re going to grow up into a wonderful man, Senjuro-kun.”

His cheeks warm up at your praise. “I can see why Aniki likes you so much.”

The cracker you hold stops centimeters away from your mouth. You instinctively lower your hand. “What do you mean?”

Senjuro cocks his head to the side. “Oh, you mean you don’t know? Aniki’s had a crush on you for months.”

The cracker falls into your lap. “He what?”

Something snaps outside the screen door. The hairs on the back of your neck come to a sudden rise; the sharp smell of blood fills the air and your mind kicks into autopilot. Shoving Senjuro away, you quickly grab onto your blade as the door is ripped from its hinges, the sight of bright yellow eyes shining through the dark.

A demon.

“Shit,” you curse, shooting to a stand, drawing your blade from its sheath, and holding it out before you in a defensive stance.

The demon stalks into the room; its body is nothing short of massive, all flexing muscle the color of moss. His head easily brushes the ceiling as he draws himself to his full height, inky, greasy hair falling in his grotesque face. His nostrils twitch as though they’re following a scent. “Where is he?” he growls, his voice rumbling from deep within his chest. “Where is the Flame Pillar?”

Your grip on your blade tightens. While it’s fortunate that Kyojuro isn’t home, that means you’ll have to take out the demon and protect Senjuro at the same time. Maybe, just maybe, you can convince the creature to turn around and leave.

“My apologies,” you say, your voice brisk. “The one you seek isn’t here.”

The demon’s yellow eyes stare down at the blade in your hands. His lips pull back in a snarl, his razor-sharp fangs shining in the light. You sharply inhale at the sight, a slight spark of panic traveling down your spine. “Pathetic little slayer,” he hisses, “thinking you can stop me? I’ll rip your head off and drink straight from your neck.”

You shift your weight on your feet. “Senjuro, get out of here. Now.”

Behind you, Senjuro scrambles to his feet. You can hear him gulp, but you ignore the urge to turn around and see if he’s okay. “B-but what about…”

“Get your brother. I’ll take care of it, okay?”

With another drawn out growl, the demon lowers itself, ready to pounce.

“Run!”

A large flash of green fills your vision and you hastily swing your sword. The battle you engage in is fierce, intense, too quick to be seen by the naked eye. Your body twirls and evades the monstrous demon’s attacks, bouncing off the walls and slithering between his legs.

You don’t necessarily realize it as you move the fight outside, the night’s breeze carrying your hair and whipping it into your face. Biting back a curse, you jump backwards just in time for a clawed hand to slash at the space where you previously stood.

“I will kill you!” the demon roars.

“Breath of Ashes: Shimmering Coal!” you cry out. In a great, fantastic arc, your blade grows to an unbearably hot temperature as you slice through the demon’s chest.

He screams in agony at the searing pain, reeling back and clutching at his chest. His eyes scream murder as he charges you; this time, though, you aren’t so lucky. Your back makes a sickening snap noise as you’re thrown into a nearby tree. Struggling for breath, you quickly get back up, charging at the demon again.

Time is lost. A faint hint at a new moon fills the sky; the only light comes from the inside of your room, leaving you in almost complete darkness. Your movements are bold, swift, straight to the point; you slash and strike at the demon, landing devastating blows, but his neck is too thick. You curse and howl in pain as claws rip at your sides, your arms, your face; blood openly flows down your face and the rest of your body, soaking the material of your torn yukata.

You groan from your spot on the ground; the coppery taste of blood coats your tongue, the back of your throat. Struggling to sit up, your fingers claw into the grass and dirt as you fight off the wave of nausea. It can’t end like this – you can’t end like this. You refuse to give up, to die. Even if this demon spills your guts, you’ll slice off his head and take him to hell with you.

Black fills the outer rims of your vision. There’s a harsh ringing in your ears, ready to steal your hearing away from you. Death is creeping up onto your doorstep, waiting, just waiting for you to answer.

There’s a cry of your name and a swirl of flames. Kyojuro comes seemingly out of nowhere; a war cry spills from his lips as he swings his blade and brings it down on the demon’s neck. Although he’s incredibly fast, your trained eyes follow his every move. The muscles in his back flex as he slices the demon’s head clean off. The demon releases an animalistic sound, spittle flying from his mouth as his head lands nearby.

“Fuck you, Flame Pillar! I’ll see you in hell!” he screeches before his head turns into dust.

A ragged breath punches its way out of your lungs as you slump back onto the ground. Kyojuro rushes to your side, worry etched into his features. You see his mouth move, but you can barely hear the words tumbling out. He gingerly slides his arms under you and picks you up, holding you close to his chest. The rest of the world passes by in a blur as he carries you back inside, instead of stopping in your room, however, he continues all the way to his room.

“Can you hear me?” his voice filters into your mind. You nod your head and groan as he places you onto his bed. “Gods, (y/n),” he breathes, pushing the damp strands out of your face. He gulps at the sheer amount of blood coating your face. “Hang on,” he tells you.

Rising from the bed, he fetches an abundance of medical supplies and gets to work at cleaning you up. Both his eyes and movements are gentle as he wipes away the blood, revealing your exhausted face. As he removes your yukata, he averts his gaze and hastily covers your privates up before working at your exposed arms and stomach.

“To do what you did,” he starts, his voice hoarse. He sounds suspiciously close to crying. “You saved him. You saved Senjuro.” His voice shakes as his hands begin to tremble. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Flicking your eyes to him, you notice how he’s biting hard onto his lip, desperate to keep the tears at bay. You’ve never seen such a pained look on his face a day in your life. His eyes shift between the two of yours, tears welling up and clouding the surface. Your heart jumps to your throat.

“You saved my baby brother,” he spews. Tears rush down his handsome face. “You risked your life to save him. It’s just… I…” He frantically rubs at his eyes with a sleeve. “I didn’t want to lose you, too.” Despite his tears, Kyojuro manages a tiny smile. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if you died,” he confesses.

“Kyojuro-san…?” you croak.

Taking your hands in his, he swiftly brings them to his lips and presses kisses to your knuckles. “I was so scared.” He frantically shakes his head. “I couldn’t live with myself if you died.” His voice cracks at the end of his sentence. “You see… I- I love you, (y/n).”

Your breath stills in your throat. He… He loves you? Rengoku Kyojuro, a man blessed by the gods themselves, loves you.

Leaning down, he gently presses his forehead to yours. “I love you with my very being,” he mutters. “And to know that you’ve saved Senjuro… It makes me love you even more.”

Before you have time to register it, your hands link around his neck. This man was the one to melt the ice surrounding your heart; he was the one to make you feel again. You smile weakly at him. “Kyojuro-san… I… I love you, too.”

[papa-rhys]

Thoughts on Jack and His Borderline Personality Disorder and How It Shows Through His Behaviour - Because I Cannot Stop Analysing Things That Ultimately Aren’t Important

Symptoms/behaviours under the cut because holy hell this guy has a lot of them. Like, honey, are you okay?

Okay, so I’m pretty sure I can trace Jack’s BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) back to his grandmother. His mum abandoned him, which shows a reckless/irresponsible behaviour and her mum had fits of rage that didn’t correlate at all with the trigger (ie; drowning Jack’s cat because he didn’t make his bed). So I think he has a family history of it, with both his mother and grandmother having BPD and passing it down to him.

Either way, Jack definitely has it. In fact, he’s a textbook case of it.

Impulsivity

Spending sprees: he bought a pony made of diamonds because he was bored and throws money at all kinds of ventures to keep him occupied and because he wants to. I really don’t know how else to describe this one lol. He bought a pony. Made of diamonds. Because he could.

Gambling: won some of the things on his trophy shelf through poker and owns an entire casino. Hunting the Vaults themselves were a huge gamble too, especially the first two, since he wasn’t truly sure that they existed. He was prepared to sacrifice a lot in order to come out on top in both his career and his social standing. All in all, he’s reckless.

Binge eating: he doesn’t even like pretzels, but still eats them because he’s either bored or stressed. Talks about food quite a bit in conversation, too, especially his cravings.

Substance abuse: admits to being high on uppers for the duration of the pre sequel (and his time on Elpis as a whole) and tells further anecdotes about drugs and getting high in tftbl.

Promiscuity/unsafe sex: nothing about having sex with Nisha is safe lol. But in all seriousness, there’s no way to prove this one. He does strike me as the reckless sex sort though. No proof, just 7 years of knowing him as a character.

Emotional instability

Inappropriate trigger response: he strangles a man to death for simply mentioning his wife, stabs Lilith for talking about Angel, and tries to kill Rhys for not being sure about his grand plan (more on this later). His response to triggers is disproportionate, often resulting in extreme anger over small things that don’t warrant that intense of a reaction. He gets big angry about almost everything; there’s no middle ground. His reaction is never really “you’re annoying me a lot” or “don’t talk about that, I don’t like it.” His reaction to almost everything is “oh my god I will murder your first born child how dare you-”

Quickly changing mood: aside from being prone to fits of rage at the flick of a switch, Jack also flicks back to “normal” pretty quickly, too. He flips between telling you to kill yourself after surviving the train and then talks casually about his day. He’ll be filled with rage after Angel’s death and then suddenly he’s laughing about you jumping into lava and having fun tricking you into visiting his grandmother. He can be intensely angry or sorrowful one moment and then nonchalant and sociable the next. His moods don’t last very long.

Idolisation/devaluation

Jack does this with numerous people across the games, but the two shining examples are Moxxi and Rhys; Rhys being the most notable. He idolises Moxxi, complimenting her on how attractive she is and how smart she is and including her in his circle of close friends/teammates. Then the inevitable happens and she lets him down and he instantly changes his opinion on her as if he’d never thought she was good to begin with. The same happens with Rhys. Throughout tftbl, Jack is best friends with Rhys and seems to form a one-sided connection with him where he idolises him and thinks they’re going to be best friends for ever and that they’re the perfect team. You cannot make him mad at you in tftbl (trust me, I’ve tried). He’s encouraging to Rhys the whole way through, like they’re brothers. Then the second Rhys displays doubts about something Jack is passionate about, Jack reacts violently and completely devalues Rhys, claiming him to be his mortal enemy and trying to kill him. People with BPD do this often. They have strong convictions and have a tendency to feel betrayed by people who go against those convictions. Jack does this regularly and it leads to the breakup of a lot of his relationships.

Paranoia

He vented a room full of scientists into space, just in case. I mean, that pretty much sums it up, really. Jack is under a lot of stress at this point in the game and stress-induced paranoia is a particularly difficult symptom of BPD. With him already feeling the pressure, the mention of a possible mole is a huge trigger for Jack. Especially since he’s reeling from the recent betrayal from a friend. His brain is already working over time, planting uneasy feelings of distrust and being unsafe. So when he’s presented with the idea from an outside source, he runs with it. Betrayal goes on to become a big button to push in Jack’s life to the extent that he actively betrays people before they get a chance to betray him (ie; killing Wilhelm). Paranoia feeds into a lot of Jack’s bad decisions, particularly in the pre sequel era.

Delusion

Jack wasn’t lying when he told us that he’s the hero. He absolutely was not the hero at all, but he wasn’t lying about it. Because lying about something implies that you know it’s not true, and Jack genuinely believes he’s a good person. The best person, in fact. It’s not a lie because in his mind, it’s the god given truth. He’s massively delusional, even before the events of the pre sequel. He’ll spout all the cheesy 80s movie lines about saving the moon and being the hero and he thinks he’s the protagonist of his own big adventure. We know that’s not what’s happening, but Jack doesn’t see it that way. Another delusion is the idea he has about how much everyone loves him. He thinks Moxxi is obsessed with him and he thinks Angel is being forced to work against him. He cannot conceive of a world in which people don’t like him or agree with him. Because why wouldn’t they agree with him? He’s the hero. Everybody loves the hero...

Intense but unstable relationships

Moxxi, Angel, Lilith, the Vault Hunter; I could go on. Jack’s relationships with people are volatile and rocky, even when they’re seemingly on the same side like with Moxxi or even Nisha (who he forms a tight bond with very quickly). People with BPD feel all emotions intensely, which causes a roller coaster. Jack really likes Moxxi, but then he doesn’t want to talk to her, but then he wants her on the team, but then he gets mad at her for calling him a pet name and beign friendly, and then he’s telling her she’s sexy, and then he’s cursing her, and then he’s hanging pictures of her in his casino. It’s the same with Angel - he subjects her to physical torture, then he loves her, then he’s mad at her for helping the Vault Hunter, then he’s doting on her, then he’s manipulating her, then he’s grieving for her. Everything is a whirlwind.

Distorted self-image

Oh boy. Jack has this physically and mentally. Mentally in the sense that he thinks he’s a good person when he actions are abhorrent and also because he’s massively insecure. BPD often comes with a lack of identity, which causes insecurity to begin with. Throw that in a pot alongside some childhood abuse, betrayal, work place bullying, and grief, and you got yourself a big pot of insecurity soup. Put plainly, Jack doesn’t really know who he is at his baseline. His personality and interests and ideas and needs all change on an hourly basis. He morphs to suit his circumstances. He can be open, honest and down to earth when he’s trying to trick Rhys. He can be full of worry and desperation when he needs you to head to grandma’s house. He can be cunning and clever when he’s tricking you into killing Wilhelm. He can be fatherly, he can be nasty, he can be torturous, he can be laid back, he can be clever, he can be ignorant, he can be sheepish, he can be cocky. He’s everyone and no one all at once and this probably leaves him feeling very hollow and empty; which is another symptom of BPD. In the physical sense, Jack issues with self image are pretty clear. He wears a face over his face to hide his face. Yup. And he does this because he thinks he’s disgracefully ugly. This scar he’s so vehemently protective of is something that defines his whole persona going forward. He literally claims himself as Handsome Jack, forcing people to adhere to the idea that he’s so attractive that it should be his title. Even though he doesn’t feel that way and does everything he can to hide the real him. He thinks he’s hideous and he struggles between loving himself and hating himself because of it.

Fear of abandonment

Aaaand here we are at the crux of the problem. BPD boils down to the intense fear of abandonment and this is probably what guides Jack for most of his life. His father died, his mother literally abandoned him, his grandmother neglected him, his first wife died, second wife left, girlfriend and friends betrayed him, and daughter killed herself to get away from him. Abandonment is practically coded into Jack’s DNA at this point and every time it happens, it confirms his fears more. He clings to Moxxi after she betrays him - taking her ideas to try and rile her up and even going as far as to recreate her entire bar in his casino because he wants to keep her presence around. He fights tooth and claw against Angel’s rebellion, begging both her and you to stop what you’re doing and leave. The only time he begs you is when he’s facing perceived abandonment, that’s how strong the fear is. His final words to Angel are “I’ll still forgive you.” Jack isn’t a forgiving man by any stretch, but he’ll say anything he has to in order to prevent her from leaving him. He’ll stalk people, he’ll manipulate them, he’ll lie to them or keep them physically locked up - all to prevent them from abandoning him. The worst possible thing that could happen to Jack is that, and we see the spiral he slips into after Angel. After Moxxi. After the Meriff. After his wife. He can’t bare the thought of someone leaving him and he’ll do anything and everything to prevent his fears becoming a reality.

So yeah! There it is, I finally got around to posting it lol. There’s probably a lot more little details that I’ve forgotten, but I cannot think of them right now. I’ll probably update if I think of any more! The tl;dr is that almost all of Jack’s behaviour can be linked to massively untreated BPD. He needed meds and therapy, but he didn’t get them and he spiralled as a result.

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter six - “lake, the sequel”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.7k

synopsis: reader seeks out bucky after his dramatic exit and they find themselves earnestly conversing... back at the lake

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: this story is available on my wattpad as a bucky x OC fic @ / typicaldaze :)

He didn't like this feeling. No, he didn't like this feeling at all. He hated it, in fact. It was betrayal, bodily betrayal. He just could not sit in that room any longer or he would've peeled his skin off. His lungs felt as if they were bound with barbed wire and the state of his stomach had him worried he was going to throw up. Most of all he felt guilty. How could he have just stormed out of the room like that? She was going to hate him now. How could he let this happen?

He was thinking this over whilst sitting at the lake, hands in the grass, trying to distract the physical body from the mental cacophony he had just endured. He had somehow found his way there after leaving Y/N. These extremely unpleasant sensations were unfamiliar. Was he sick? Could he have been drugged? He was so confused. Bucky realized he seemed to be confused most of the time. Following that realization, he became mildly pissed off.

The super soldier stared out at the lake. It was a calm day, the water tranquil and clear. It was a stark contrast against his stress. He leaned forward and looked into the water at his reflection.

"Damn," he said out loud.

Is that really what I look like now?

His eyes traced over the long shaggy hair, dark under eyes, and the subtle but noticeable worry lines. This sight reminded him of when he broke the mirror at his old place in Bucharest. Now he remembered why. God, he looked as fucked up as he was. He leaned back and tossed a stone at where his reflection had been.

A deep sigh left his lungs, which were now conveniently working properly.

"Fuckers," he muttered, referring to the mercurial organs.

He had spent nearly two years alone in Bucharest, and he had grown accustomed to living in this new body. He was always on edge, that much he could tell. However, he was never too introspective; he never thought about his feelings or his behavior. All he was focused on was surviving. When there is more to life than survival, that's when things get complicated... not that they weren't complicated before. God, he was running in circles inside his own mind. His scarred and ruined and manipulated mind that resided in this body that was used as a tool for destruction and violence and death-

"Hey."

His head whipped around, startled out of his thought frenzy. Always on edge. Mentally, he shook his head in disappointment.

"Oh! (Y/N)!"

He stood up immediately. "Listen, I'm so sorry about before, I don't know what-"

"It's okay," she said quickly, holding up her hands. "Bucky, you do not need to apologize, everything is totally fine."

He was taken aback. Words didn't seem to work.

"I'm not mad if that's what you were thinking," she said.

"You're not?"

"No, of course not. If anything I was worried."

"I- Worried?"

"Yes, you were clearly in distress, and that room was the last place you wanted to be. I'm glad you found your way back here because you look much better now," (Y/N) explained with earnest eyes.

She could tell he was freaked out? She probably thinks he's insane.

"Yeah, I... I think I'm better now."

He was far from okay, but definitely better than before.

The psychologist sat down next to where he was standing. He didn't move, but looked down at her.

"I don't think it'd be wise to leave you alone here considering you're supposed to be in a session with me right now and you can't go anywhere without an escort. It would most likely lead to suspicion and then trouble you don't need. I'm going to stay with you. We can continue the session if you'd like, but if not we can just sit."

She said this all while looking straight forward at the water.

In all honesty he wasn't sure what to say, so he settled with a breathy, "Okay," before sitting down next to her.

"I'm getting the vibe that this is more of a just sit situation..."

"Yeah... I think I'm all therapy-ed out for today," Bucky said in a meek attempt at a joke.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a wide smile. He then realized that she didn't know he could see it, and that's why this smile seemed different. Most differents in Bucky's life hadn't been outstandingly pleasant. But this was a welcome different. This was a good different. It was genuine and unbridled. That was the most open he'd ever seen her.

Every now and then he forgot that he was a literal trained super spy. He may not have any PhD's, but he had his own way of reading behavior, cues, and subtleties. Perhaps he'd make an effort to be more observant. Perhaps he wanted to learn a little more about what else was behind this new different.

A few beats of comfortable silence passed before he heard the word again.

"Hey," (Y/N) started softly. "I'm sorry if I went a little too far today. I know I said our first session wouldn't be much, but I realize I was pushing too far."

"Oh, it's okay," Bucky replied, looking down at the grass between his knees. "I think it's more my fault anyway. It's not like the questions were super intense."

He let out a loaded sigh. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Bucky it's really okay. If it's anyone's fault it's mine. This whole process is supposed to be based on your comfort levels and at your own pace. And there's nothing wrong with you. Your reaction was completely normal given the circumstances."

Bucky wasn't terribly familiar with reassurance. He turned his head, looking at her dead on. She was so genuine, like she knew all of what she was saying was the all encompassing truth.

Echoes of different combinations of "there's nothing wrong with you" and "completely normal" and "your own pace" flitted around inside him until they melted into a feeling he hadn't felt in so long: hope. It was horrifying... yet it gave him a kind of relief he didn't know he could feel.

The super soldier then realized that (Y/N) was looking right back at him dead on. He was about to stumble through some sort of apology for staring or thankful expression for her kindness, but he noticed that she didn't look like she was necessarily waiting for a response. She was just... looking.

Bucky tried to say something, anything. But he just couldn't seem to pull his eyes away. In this brief moment, he felt crystallized. His conscious, logical brain was somewhere far away, hypnotized by the stillness of the moment. It was only a few seconds, but somehow felt longer. These very few seconds of mental sedation were soon over.

Speak, idiot.

He snapped back to reality, suddenly finding himself inspecting at the grass below him.

"Thank you."

"Of course," she replied without missing a beat. Her tone of voice was water soft.

"(Y/N), do you... do you know what happened with me earlier?" he asked, cautiously. "Like, what was wrong- I mean, not wrong but why I-"

He sighed frustratingly, cutting himself off.

Her face was patient, but she was waiting for a description of something he didn't know how to describe.

"I know I said we were done for today, but I-I don't know how to explain it, and I want to know what it is," he confessed.

"I think you had an anxiety attack."

Anxiety? That couldn't be right. There's no way that could've been from being nervous.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"Anxiety. It seemed as though you were experiencing high amounts of anxiety. Most people get nervous at times, but those tiny amounts are normal. But, some other people are a lot more nervous a lot more of the time. Sometimes, these peoples' anxiety can get particularly high and be so overwhelming that their body kinda takes over, and they can experience really uncomfortable physical symptoms, and this can turn into an anxiety attack."

"I thought I was... sick or... or drugged or something."

"Well, I'm almost certain you weren't drugged, and I'm pretty sure you can't even get sick."

"Oh."

He honestly didn't know what to say.

"Bucky," she looked straight at him again and he almost felt himself slipping. "In terms of psychology, a lot has progressed since the 40's. I'm not sure how anxiety was presented or studied then, but there's really a lot more to it than people think. And honestly, given your situation, it would be strange if you didn't develop an anxiety disorder."

Anxiety disorder?

"Anxiety disorder? I have that?"

"Well, again, I think we have to do more work to confirm, but that's what it seems like."

"I thought you said I had PTSD?"

"I do. I think you have both."

Christ.

"Wow, I'm a whole sack 'a problems, aren't I?" he chuckled, giving up on trying to internally oppose his short comings.

"You're not a problem, Buck. You had to deal with a whole sack of problems, though," she smiled.

The nickname didn't miss his radar. Was that the first time she's called him that? He ignored how he liked it.

"That's for damn sure."

They conversed for a while after that, and didn't seem to notice how late it was until the sun began to set. The ending day's reflection on the water created an aura so relaxing Bucky didn't want to move. But alas, reality calls.

(Y/N) stood up. "If you're not back soon, they'll start looking for you. We should probably get going."

Bucky stood up, too, following her request.

"I'll walk you back to your quarters," she offered.

And so they went, conversation continuing naturally, as if they were old friends. Bucky found it strange that someone he knew so little was so easy to talk to. He brushed it off as some inherent therapist quality.

He still found her hard to read although he knew her more with each passing word between them.

Despite all of this, the walk back, with cool air, a melting sky, and languid steps, was the best thing he had experienced since coming out of cryo. His memory may be spotty, and his mind may be rough, but this, this he was sure of.

[emerald-amidst-gold]

OC Interview: Fane Lavellan

Thank you for the tag @dungeons-and-dragon-age! I’ve been eyeing up this meme for a while actually, so this was perfect timing! X3

This takes place Post-Trespasser, about a month or two after, in fact. Solas brought the idea forward, and of course, Fane refused. But after some coaxing, some explanation as to why, and the promise of a whole cake, Fane agreed to humor the request. 

*THERE BE BIG THINGS REGARDING FANE HERE* 

I got carried awaaaaaay! XD

Introduction

Can you introduce yourself?

“I can, but it’s a lengthy list,” He sighs, “...Those who are close to me, who see as but an elf, call me Fane. Those who wish to meet cobble, call me Lavellan or Herald. Those who are blinded by reverence call me ‘He Who Flew Above’. Denizens of the Fade refer to me as, ‘Devotion’ or ‘Tenacity’. However, my true name is..” He sighs again, “...Aterian. I rarely go by it, but the truth won’t be ignored. It never can be.”

What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

“Male. Elvhen. Dragon.” He huffs through his nose, shifting his gaze off to the side, “That’s all I’ll say on that. As for orientation, I’m...emotionally driven. If you asked me to look at another and tell you what’s attractive about them I would say, ‘Nothing.’ I don’t know them, so I feel nothing for them.“ He shrugs, turning his gaze back, but brandishes a glare, “There’s only one person who defies that response, and that’s because he knows me, without and within. More than that, is none of your business.”

Where and when were you born?

He lifts a hand, massaging a temple, “The ‘where’ is simple; Elvhenan. Specifics are lost to me, however, so you’ll have to be content with that response.” He shifts his gaze downwards, slowly crossing his arms, “As to when?” He sighs heavily, “...I have no answer for that other than: I’m roughly the same age, if not older, as Solas. Does it matter, honestly? Numbers fall through the cracks after a specific threshold is crossed.” What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

He unravels a crossed arm and guides his hand downwards, tapping the pommel of a sword he has fastened to his waist, “Sword. I use either long swords, short swords, or great swords.” He raises an eyebrow as a question is forwarded, “Shields?” He sneers a bit. “I don’t use shields. They get in the way, and anyways,” He raises his hand once more, the expanse steadily beginning to glow blue and silver before a spectral coating of scales cover the entirety, “this is better than any shield. I prefer the front lines, the place I can make sure no one breaches, and the lingering memory of what I once was makes sure I can do just that.” He dispels the scales and shakes out his hand before returning it to his crossed counterpart, “It takes energy to maintain, but I’m getting better at holding it for longer.”  Lastly, are you happy?

He blinks before his entire expression softens, two toned eyes shining with primary gold as they shift downwards, “...If you had asked that of me over twelve years ago I would have spat in your face and said, ‘Happiness doesn’t exist in this world’. But now..” He trails off, casting a sidelong glance towards one of the fortress’s entryways; a familiar voice sounding, firm, but soft, as if reprimanding a child, “...I understand what happiness is, and it’s in every corner if you allow yourself to see it.” His eyes shift back, holding a far away look and voice coming forward in a murmur, “I only wish we all could be happy; together.”

Family and Friends

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

His face holds a conflicted look, as if the memory is painful before speaking, “Complicated,” he says before beginning to tap a finger against his bicep, “I had a mother. She died when I was fifteen from a wasting disease, but she was the picture of serenity. Calm, guiding, measured. Hair like moonlight. Eyes like a clear autumn day. She was--” Unbranded features twist with a look of grief, eyes going dark as his voice drops, “...I’d rather not speak of her. It still hurts to. It hurts to speak of any of them,” His eyes narrow, grief stricken expression turning somewhat bitter, “...Especially those who throw all you did for them back into your face because they refused to listen when you needed them to most. Even so, I still wish for her happiness. Cullen better be treating her right,” That bitter turns outright malicious, dark eyes going darker as another question is meekly asked, “Father? I have no father. I only had a monster that haunted my childhood, tore my token of devotion apart, and then stalked me in my dreams. So, no. I have nothing to say about that concept.”

Have you ever ran away from home?

He chuckles, “Many, many times,” He throws most of his weight into one side, tilting his head back as if thinking, counting, “I can’t even remember the amount of times I fled into the forests, to be honest. All I know is that it happened weekly, maybe even daily,” He brings his head back, snowy hair moving with the action to brush the tops of his cheekbones, “Why do you look so surprised?” he asks, snorting a bit at the meek response of, ‘Why so often?’, “Because I refused to endure being treated like a beast every hour of the day merely because I believed differently, or rather, not at all.” He sighs within the next moment, “...I wasn’t any better than the Dalish, though. I lashed out, I spat in their face, dragged their heritage through the dirt, inflicted harm from the smallest of things...” He squeezes his arms, eyes narrowing into a glare, but seeming to see through everything, “...The past repeats. An infernal spiral that will never slow.” Would you consider marriage or having children?

“Marriage? Children?” He blinks, pale visage suddenly going flush before he snarls, “Why do I need to answer those questions?!” The blush deepens and he responds despite his displeased expression, muttering and biting the inside of his cheek, “...Damned keen eyed elves. They know, don’t they? I swear if Abelas fucking ran that mouth of his, I’ll--” He sighs heavily, letting his head fall limp a bit in defeat, “...Yes. To both. The latter is already taken care of, as everyone situated in the Crossroads knows, but...” Pointed ears are now a deep shade of red, “...marriage is...on hold. War time isn’t an ideal summer wedding.” His voice drops, eyes shimmering as if he was before the person his heart yearned for, “...The sky deserves a venue better than a garden of death and deceit.” Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

“There were those in the Inquisition who I didn’t exactly see eye to eye with,” he started before shaking his head, “but I didn’t hate anyone. Everyone is entitled to their own views and what they find important.” He scowls a bit, tapping his bicep once again with a finger, “...Even if they didn’t extend the same kindness to me in the beginning. ‘Do you believe in the Maker?’ ‘Do you believe you’re chosen?’ ‘You need to use the people’s faith. It gives them hope.’” He mocks before snorting harshly, “No. No, I don’t. Oh, that suddenly makes me trash? Ohhh. How terrible.” He scoffs. “Disgusting.” Which friend knows everything about you?

“Solas,” He says within a heart beat before clearing his throat, shifting his gaze away sheepishly, “He knows me without and within.” Emerald and gold blaze as the orbs go wide, the blush of roses coming back in full force, “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t mean--! Fuck! You better wipe that shit eating grin off your face, elf, or I swear I’ll do it for you!” He growls in frustation, throwing his hands in the air, “Why did I agree to this? What fucking dragon entertains an interview!? This is worst than the courts in Arlathan used to be! And that’s saying something!”

Asked by Fans

Are you literate? Have you been to school?

”I am literate. Sometimes to a fault, in fact,” He smiles a bit, “Poetry is my niche; a lingering memory of my mother. So, I speak cryptically at times,” He snorts, amused, “Although, I guess that isn’t much of a surprise since the Elvhen language is riddled in verse rather than practical application. Still, even some of the ancients left have a hard time deciphering my words,” He shrugs, smile turning into a smirk, “They never expected a dragon to be able to talk, I guess. Well, ta-dah.”  The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

A somber expression flits across his visage and eyes, “...That, eventually, I would hurt the one person I never wanted to.” The corner of his mouth twitches, holding both bitterness and grief; a painful duo, “...And retribution came just as swiftly, but it--” He sighs, shaking his head in defeat before muttering under his breath, “Observe and accept. Observe that what came to pass was uncontrollable, and accept that it had to happen for your path to continue, for your soul to be complete.” What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

His face blanks, mouth going into a hard line before a sigh exits through his nose slowly, “...That I don’t have tail.” He snarls, blank expression twisting in warning, “Laugh, elf. Do it.” He nods in the next second when no sounds of amusement come forth, expression going stoic once more, “That’s what I thought. You try living centuries in one form and then transitioning. See what happens.” Do you have mental health or physical issues?

He nods, sighing tiredly. “Like my names, I have a lot.” A hand motions to his body lazily, “My entire body is littered in scars, inflicted through crude experiments by an abomination that sought power like so many others,” He expression sours, jaw working back a forth, “They’ve calmed over the years, but the memories are not so kind.” He sighs, trying to calm himself and lifts his left hand; the Anchor glowing faintly and his eyes watch it, “I have an illness, or rather, sensitivity to any Fade born essence. That, too, has calmed and I’m grateful for that. As for my mind..” He trails off, grimacing a bit as if suddenly in pain, “...Visualize the Void, and there’s your answer. Black walls with crimson torches, seats empty, but somehow wanting for memories to take their seats. However, those occupants never come, burnt to ash by fury’s flame. That’s my mind in a nutshell.” What is your current main goal?

He raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips, “Mm, as of right now, I’m busy helping Solas unlock the eluvians that he couldn’t while I was away,” He flexes his marked hand, watching it with a look of determination in his eyes, “That’ll take time, but after, my people, my kin will have their skies back. I won’t let this power be squandered, and I won’t let the key that I’ve been entrusted with fall into the wrong hands.” His face hardens further, “For if that key rusts, the locks break and the sky will blacken as surely as the earth will redden.”

Choices

Drink or food?

“Drinks.” He says with ease, shrugging, “Food is comforting, especially sweets, but a glass of rum or ale, or a cup of chamomile tea really pounds the word ‘relaxation’ into my head.” Cats or dogs?

He smiles, warmth caressing its edges, “You’ve seen Nislean wandering about the halls, laying on the window sills and curling up in front of the fire,” He hums suddenly, crossing his arms again, “Which reminds me, I need to go out of the Crossroads for milk. I’ll be getting more than five bottles this time.” Optimist or pessimist?

“Depends on who you ask,” He shrugs, seeming unbothered, “I’m neither from a personal standpoint. I try to see the bright spots, but shadows can be very persistent.”   Sassy or sarcastic?

He snorts, “Ask Fen’harel,” his voice is light upon the title, playfully mocking in its deepness, “He knows all about that side. Although, he would label it, ‘insufferable’. I would call myself dryly sarcastic, though.”

Have You Ever

Been caught sneaking out?

He purses his lips, “Hmm. Not that I can recall,” he says slowly before his brows jumped and his eyes lit up with memory, “Oh! Wait. There was that one time where I was with Solas and Mythal in a...courtyard, I think?” He shrugs before shrugging, “Doesn’t matter. But, I tried to slip away, tail and all, and I...may have shattered one or two or three eluvians trying to get to the balcony.” He somewhat wistfully, smirking, “Elgar’nan got fucking stuck in a far off settlement for a week, though. Completely worth getting my horn chewed off by a wolf.” Broken a bone?

“Surprisingly, no.” He huffs in amusement, “Wonder of wonders, truthfully.” Received flowers?

“I have,” He scowls, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disgust, “but I always throw them into the fire. Most are from suitors, those who don’t know what the fuck ‘taken’ means.” Ghosted someone?

His face tightens, completely deadpan, “...No?”, he says, voice raising in question a bit, “At least I don’t believe so. But, then again...oh.” He blanks further, “...Oh. I understand the term now. You mortals are forever twisting the languages, aren’t you? I can’t keep up, but the answer is still no.” Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

“Maybe once or twice, but I don’t ‘laugh’ per say.” He huffs through his nose deliberately, “I do that; a puff of air. Some habits are never truly able to be broken. No matter the form.”

Tagging: @oxygenforthewicked @blueheaded @little-lightning-lavellan @noire-pandora @the-dreadful-canine and anyone else that’d like to play! (no pressure, of course!)

[not-all-dead]

angstpril day sixteen: silence

+

alternative eleven: coma

CW: physical trauma, mental health issues, implied/attempted su*cide, very very very long

fic under the cut

There was another explosion on the other side of the rock they were hiding behind. Lin turned to her sister and placed her hand on her cheek.

“I love you,” She said before running out from behind the rock.

“Come and get me, you Third-Eyed Freak!” She jumped up, away from P’li’s blast.

Her ears had already been ringing for a time, each of P’li’s attacks making it worse. She didn’t have the time to pay it any attention though, and sent a slab of earth flying at the firebender. P’li blew it up before it got close and Lin sent another two slabs towards her. This time P’li dodged the slabs, retaliating with two attacks of her own. Lin jumped out of the way and rolled, bending an earth wall for protection. P’li’s explosion destroyed the wall, sending Lin backwards. She propped herself up, the ringing in her ears almost unbearable now, and watched as P’li reared up for another attack.

Just as she was sure she was about to die, Su bent her armour at P’li. It wrapped around her head, containing the firebender’s explosion and instantly killing her instead. Lin watched Zaheer spin around on the part of the cliff on which he stood, Korra taking advantage of his lapse in focus to attack him with fire. He sensed her attack before it was too late and dodged it, sending a puff of air towards her and knocking her out. Lin leapt to her feet, taking a second to steady her dizziness, before running up the rocks to where Zaheer was picking up Korra’s limp form.

She heard Su say something beside her, but couldn’t make out any words. She took a step forward as Zaheer said something, ignoring the ringing in her ears.

“Release the Avatar,” Her voice felt disconnected from her body, the words forming fine but sounding wrong.

She heard Zaheer’s voice again, followed by Su yelling something she could almost make out as actual words. Zaheer’s mouth moved one last time before he stepped backwards off the cliff.

“No! Stop!” Lin felt herself yell as she and Su ran to the cliff’s edge, sending their cables after him.

He dodged both of their attacks and flew away from them, gracefully floating towards the airship in the distance with Korra draped over his shoulder.

“Did he just… fly?” Lin asked in disbelief, staring after him.

She heard Su mumble something beside her and looked at her sister in confusion. Su cocked her head to the side and said something else, stepping closer to Lin. Concern took over her face as she said what could have been Lin’s name, but she couldn’t be sure. Su grabbed her arm and pulled her down the uneven rocks, back towards their temporary camp. They made their way down the mountainside until they reached the small group at the base, Korra’s father and a few others getting patched up by Su’s metalbenders.

Su pulled Lin aside for a moment before they got all the way back, taking her hands and forcing her to look her in the eye. Lin tried to read her lips as she spoke, but was left even more confused than before. The ringing had dulled by now, but so had every other sound. She could hear when someone was talking, and could mostly recognize the voice, but their words were too muffled to make out. After a minute Su squeezed her hands sadly and they walked back to the camp.

Just as they got there, everyone looked up. Lin followed Su’s gaze, spotting Mako, Bolin, Asami, Kai, and Tenzin on the back of a baby bison. She rushed forward alongside Su, immediately helping Korra’s friends off the poor bison’s back. She shook her head in an attempt to get at least a little more of her hearing back, but it was to no avail. As the group walked back to the makeshift camp, she tried to listen to what those around her were saying. When she still couldn’t make any of it out, she fell to the back of the group, hanging her head and kicking rocks as she walked.

She kept to the outskirts of the group as they talked, trying not to notice that with every passing second the voices became quieter and quieter. By the time they seemed to have a plan, there was nothing.

She followed those who hadn’t been assigned to stay with the injured, keeping to the back of the group as they travelled along the mountain. After walking for a while, Kai called Lefty and Oogie down to them and they all got onto the sky bison. The two beasts lifted off, Kai guiding them somewhat aimlessly around the mountain range, until pointing down suddenly.

Lin watched as he and Mako seemed to exchange a few words, Kai getting very animated out of nowhere, before they flew down towards a small cave. They all got off of the sky bison, Bolin and Tonraq pulling back to help Tenzin stay upright. He said something to Su before the rest of the group charged into the cave, encountering several Red Lotus sentries. Mako took out the first while Su attacked the second, leaving Lin to make her way further into the cave. A distracted sentry turned towards her just as she sent a rock flying towards him, knocking him out cold.

Su ran past her and hugged Opal, who was seated on the ground with the rest of the airbenders. Bolin rushed in after them, pushing Su aside and hugging Opal himself. Lin felt herself chuckle at the interaction, but quickly quieted and shook her head. It was an odd sensation, being able to feel that she was making noise but not being able to hear it.

She shook her head again and spotted Kya, rushing to her side as quickly as she could. She wrapped the waterbender’s arm over her shoulder and pulled her to her feet, letting her lean almost her entire weight on her as they staggered out of the cave. Lin felt vibrations in Kya’s chest as they walked and her eyes started to sting with the knowledge that Kya was trying to talk to her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and brought Kya to where Tenzin was propped up, setting her down beside him before going back into the cave.

Su glanced at her on her way out of the cave, giving Lin a look that she knew meant she’d talk to Kya for her. Her eyes stung momentarily again before she focused her energy on the task at hand, helping several more airbenders up and ushering them out of the cave. Once everybody was safely out, she made her way over to where Kya sat.

Lin squatted down next to Kya, putting a hand on her knee and avoiding meeting her eye. Kya cupped her scarred cheek and tilted her head up, forcing the metalbender to look at her. A tear slipped from Lin’s eye and Kya’s thumb brushed it away before Lin pulled back, shoving down her sudden flood of emotions. Su waved her towards the gathering of people around her and she looked one last time at Kya before making her way over.

Su placed her hand on Lin’s back as the group discussed the situation, glancing sideways at her every few seconds. Lin’s face twisted into a scowl and she turned her gaze to the ground, tapping her foot impatiently. Everyone looked up at something happening in the air at one point, Lin finally shifting to look where they did and seeing Korra battling Zaheer midair.

Zaheer was flying still, sending relentless attacks at Korra. Korra seemed to be struggling a great deal, but was still doing a decent job of keeping up with him. Lin jumped in surprise when Kai and all the other airbenders ran past her, standing in a circle below where the fight was taking place. Jinora started up a small air vortex, the other airbenders helping her to make it larger and larger. Lin looked up at Korra and Zaheer, watching in horror as he began to suffocate her. Just before he finished the job, though, the vortex got big enough to distract him.

His grip on Korra faded, causing her to tumble over the edge of the cliff she’d been on. He dove down after her, grabbing her and trying to fly away, but the vortex around him was too strong. He tried a few times before dropping Korra, making it out of the vortex on his own. Lin couldn’t believe her eyes when Korra miraculously woke up, throwing her arm towards him and twisting herself just perfectly so that the platinum chain around her wrist caught his ankle.

She dropped down then, pulling Zaheer with her and landing them both hard against the earth. Lin rushed towards them with Su and the others, watching as Korra collapsed. Lin felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Su, who nodded at Zaheer. Lin nodded back and the two bent an earth prison around him, trapping him thoroughly before moving back towards Korra.

Lin looked back and forth as Su yelled something at a wickedly smiling Zaheer, Jinora then yelling something at her. Su ran towards Korra, kneeling by her head and closing her eyes in concentration. She seemed to be metalbending somehow, pulling a poison from Korra’s body. Lin stood there watching, unsure of what to do with herself.

Korra woke up and hugged her father tightly, Bolin and Opal doing the same. The airbenders all embraced one another, chatting and recalling the events energetically. Lin hung her head and stood back, not looking up until someone’s arm wrapped around her shoulder.

She looked up to see Su smiling sadly at her, pausing for only a second before crushing her sister in a hug. She felt so far from everyone even though everyone was right there, so feeling her sister’s arms around her was reassuring. She thought for a second of Kya’s healing abilities, but then remembered how Kya had looked at her earlier. There was no healing this one. She knew it would take some getting used to, and she’d have to find another way to communicate, but she decided then and there that she could do it with help from her friends and family.

———————————————

Kya knew Lin had been having a hard time with losing her hearing. They’d been leaning on each other in the time since the attack, but Lin had been going out less and less. She’d spent a good bit at the island, trying her hand at healing Korra and enjoying her family’s company. Lin had stopped joining her on her excursions a while ago, writing that it was easier to not see people at all than to struggle though stilted communication. Kya was used to the silence that filled their apartment now, but she still couldn’t help but get scared every time she couldn’t find Lin immediately upon getting inside.

Today was one of those times.

She didn’t bother calling for Lin, instead stepping heavily as she entered the apartment. Usually Lin would emerge from her hiding spot of the day when she felt Kya’s footsteps, but not today. Something was different today. Kya set down her things on the kitchen counter, limping her way through the apartment. Lin wasn’t in the living room, the main bathroom, or the guest room. Kya’s heart pounded in her chest as she opened their bedroom door, hesitating a moment before peeking in.

Lin was there alright, lying in their bed, sound asleep. But something was off. She was on top of all the covers, her hand hanging off the side of the bed. Kya walked around to the other side of the bed, watching Lin as she did. She almost jumped out of her skin when a rattling came from something she’d accidentally kicked. She bent down to see what it was, picking up the small green glass bottle.

“No…” She whispered, throwing the pill bottle on the bed.

“No, no, no, Lin,” She said louder, now on the verge of tears.

She grabbed the water from the glass she always kept on her side of the bed, focusing as hard as she could to check and heal all of Lin’s vital organs. When she was certain she was still alive, she let herself collapse.

“Lin,” She sobbed, grasping Lin’s hand with all her strength.

After a moment she pulled herself together and noticed a note on the table by Lin’s hand. She picked it up and read aloud, the silent apartment suddenly too quiet for her liking.

“Dear Kya,

I am so, so sorry. Please don’t blame yourself, you’ve been amazing. I just don’t have it in me to keep going like this anymore. Tell everyone I love them, would you? And remember how much I love you. I’ll see you again someday, I promise.

Love, your Linny,” Kya stared at the note, taking all of it in.

Lin had failed at her goal. She was still living, breathing, right here. But she was in a very deep sleep, and it was anyone’s guess when she’d wake up. The medicine she’d taken had done a number on her system, and when she did wake up, she’d probably be in more danger than now. Kya placed a hand on Lin’s cheek as the reality of it all settled in, willing away the urge to cry again.

Lin was in a coma, and would have to stay in one for a long time.

Kya forced herself up from the floor, moving to the phone in the hall. She dialed the number for Tenzin’s phone at the temple and tapped her foot anxiously as it rang.

“Tenny?” She blurted as soon as someone picked up at the other end.

“Kya? Is something wrong?” It was Pema.

Kya let out a sigh of frustration and forced herself to smile.

“Hey, Pema. Would you be so kind as to get Tenzin for me?” She held her breath as Pema paused for a moment.

“Sure thing, he’s right here actually,” She said after what seemed like hours.

“Kya, what’s going on?” Tenzin said into the phone a second later.

“Lin, she- I need you to delay Korra’s ship to the South. We’re going with her,” Kya gulped down more tears as she spoke.

“Of course, but is everything alright? You sound like you’ve been crying,” Tenzin cleared his throat on the other end.

“I’ll explain when we get there,” Kya let out a sigh.

“Thank you, Tenny,” She hung up and limped back to the living room, grabbing her jacket and Lin’s satomobile keys before hobbling back to the bedroom.

She put their toothbrushes and a few other essential belongings in her deep pockets, then moved to Lin’s side. She slid one arm under Lin’s back, the other under her legs, and lifted her off the bed. She was grateful Lin had stopped wearing her armour, but still found herself panting with the effort of carrying her by the time she got down to the parking lot.

She all but threw Lin in the back seat of the car, jumping into the driver seat and slamming the door behind her. She didn’t bother to wipe the tears streaming down her face as she raced through yellow lights, getting to the dock as fast as she could. The ferry was almost ready to leave when they got there, her sato being the last one to board before they set off towards the island.

Conveniently, their sato being the last to board meant it was the first to leave the ship. Kya raced down the dock and parked the sato in the small parking lot by the beach. She hopped out as quickly as her injured leg would let her, wrenching the door out and scooping Lin into her arms again. The massive ship that Korra and her parents were going on to return to the South Pole was pulled into the next dock over, not too far but still a decent walk. She decided against trying to limp all the way there while carrying Lin, instead stepping into the water and bending it to propel them forwards.

They got to the dock quickly, Mako being the first to notice them.

“There she is,” He shouted, pointing at Kya and Lin.

Kya stumbled as she stepped out of the water, her weight combined with Lin’s almost bringing them to the ground. She caught herself at the last second, though, landing on her injured leg and stifling a cry. She practically hopped up the steps to where Mako, Bolin, Asami, Tenzin, and Tenzin’s family stood. As soon as she was up, Tenzin insisted upon taking Lin from her, Mako catching her just before she collapsed.

“Kya, is she…” Tenzin asked, looking down at Lin, who was now limp in his arms.

Kya shook her head furiously, leaning on Mako as she got her balance back. She took a second to catch her breath before explaining anything, watching Lin’s peaceful face the entire time.

“She tried- she failed, she’s asleep, I need- I need to get her to mom, but I think she’s gonna have to sleep for a while, but- but she’s okay,” Kya panted as she spoke, turning her gaze to Tenzin on the last word.

He nodded solemnly and started towards the giant ship’s loading ramp, walking up and inside with Lin still in his arms. Mako walked Kya to the ramp and she pretended not to notice how uneven his breathing had become all of a sudden. He brought her to a couch inside the common area on the lower deck, helping her to sit gently. Tenzin placed Lin lengthwise on the same couch, letting her head rest in Kya’s lap. Before they could leave, though, Kya called Mako back.

He came and crouched in front of her, pushing a hair out of Lin’s face before looking up at her. Kya placed a hand on his cheek, wiping away the single tear that escaped his eye when she did. She mustered up the best smile she could considering the situation, drawing in a deep breath before saying anything.

“I’ll take care of her, son, don’t worry,” Mako nodded and closed his eyes for a second before standing up to leave.

He spared one last glance at Kya and Lin before leaving, the loading ramp closing as soon as he was gone. Kya looked at Lin asleep in her lap, running her fingers through her soft, dark grey hair. She looked so calm like this, but it still broke Kya’s heart. She wished she could talk to her, to at least tell her that she was there and not leaving anytime soon, but she knew Lin wouldn’t be able to hear her. Even so, she spoke into the air around them, more to reassure herself than anyone else.

“You’ll be alright, Lin, you’ll be alright. Mom will be able to heal you properly, and you’ll wake up soon,” She looked down at Lin’s face again, wetness slipping down her cheek.

“You’ll be alright,” She whispered again, placing a soft kiss on Lin’s forehead.

“You’ll be alright,” She whispered one last time, this time completely to herself. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the couch, her mind and body equally exhausted and quickly sending her into a deep sleep of her own, though not nearly as deep as Lin’s.

[firemblem-fics]

SFW alphabet. | felix

-> Pairing: Felix x GN!Reader

-> Warnings: None

-> Genre: Fluff, Headcanons

-> A/N: i felt bad for spamming y’all with all kinds of asks and apparently drama or whatever the hell happened earlier so i decided to try my hand at the sfw alphabet, for felix since y’all go batshit feral for him. if all goes well, i may open up requests for them for my 1.2k special. but i def wouldn’t do the entire alfabit for one character this took me so long. also i’m at 1145 tho y’all so don’t request anything please-

warning, long post.

A -> Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they give affection?)

felix really isn’t that affectionate, even after being in a relationship for a long time. he prefers to show his love through acts of service like me but the occasional hug and kiss is never unwanted

if felix does give affection, it’s small and subtle. holding your pinky as you walk through the monastery halls, resting his hand on your thigh underneath the dining table, those kinds of things. even if you’re cuddling at night, it’s the small circles he rubs into your back and the gentle kisses he peppers on your forehead.

B -> Beginning (How would the relationship start?)

you would 100% be the person to start it. felix would quite literally never do it. he wasn’t even sure that what he was feeling was romantic until you confessed to him and his heart leaped ten feet in the air

it starts slowly- you’re felix’s first relationship. he’s afraid to mess things up, so he’s going to test the waters and move at a pace that both you and he are comfortable with

C -> Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

like the affection hc, felix isn’t a big cuddler. it’s rare for him to initiate, and he only will after a long day. at night, while he’s asleep, he may unconsciously wrap an arm around your waist and pull you closer, but often times cuddling just involves an arm around you as the two of you sit in the knights hall

D -> Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning?)

felix never really considered his future before he met you. he wants to settle down with you, trust me, but it’s not really the biggest thing on his mind at the moment. after the war and after the dust has settled and life is back in order, he’ll consider it

felix does his fair share of housework. he believes that in relationships, you do equal amounts and he will always do his part. even if it takes him a while to learn how to cook

E -> Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

unfortunately, felix would be extremely cold to you. chances are, he broke things off because he feels like he’s a danger to you or is afraid of not being able to protect you, so he breaks things off to avoid getting attached

he won’t look at you at all afterwards. he won’t talk to you, be in the same room as you, or anything. he’s all nonchalant on the outside, but is definitely hurting as much as you are on the inside

F -> Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Would they get married?)

you actually asked him this

felix is good with staying committed to you. he’s very very good at it. he only has eyes for you and it’s easy to keep trust in him because you’re honestly really surprised he agreed to even be in a relationship in the first place. not that you’re complaining ofc

marriage is a yes. he’s going to propose to you, but not now or in the near future. there’s a war to win

G -> Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

felix is afraid of hurting you. physically and emotionally. he knows that he gets angry often and it’s one of his biggest goals to never snap at you the way he does others. it’s hard to do- containing his snarky comments- but he’ll work on it for you

H -> Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

his hugs are pure safety. every embrace is a silent promise that felix will always be there to protect you. the hugs strong and solid and so full of love, especially when he squeezes you a little tighter before having to let go. even he enjoys them because he gets to have you close

because he doesn’t show affection often, felix’s hugs are extra special. they happen whenever you’re reunited after a fight, or if either of you have an injury and give the other a scare. they’re a reassurance to him that you’re still there, alive and loving him

I -> I Love You (How fast do they say the L-word?)

just like the confession, you’ve gotta say it first. felix will internally panic about messing it up or saying it at the wrong time or you not reciprocating, so he won’t say it first.

felix isn’t one for words of affirmation or affection. he’s not going to say it unless it’s in the heat of the moment

J -> Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

felix doesn’t get jealous easily. except around dimitri, but that’s another story. he trusts you to stay loyal and everyone knows that your his anyways, so he doesn’t worry. if they try anything, he’ll kill them

often, it’s just throwing insults at dimitri. he just doesn’t think that a Boar should be talking to such a perfect being such as you, but also because he’s quite aware of dimitri’s attractiveness and sometimes feels a little intimidated in the looks department. but he’ll never tell you that.

K -> Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

passionate. loving. full of emotion. every time felix kisses you, there’s just this flowing warmth in your chest and you can never stop the grin from etching itself on your face. felix isn’t as stingy with kisses as he is hugs and such, giving small pecks to you as greetings and goodbyes, or just little rewards throughout the day for a good day training or something

felix likes to kiss you on your forehead. he does it every time he’s got you wrapped up in an embrace, as if placing a little promise on your head that he will always love you.

he’s a traditional man, though. he wants to be kissed on the lips. he’ll never ever ever get tired of the feeling of your lips against his, sending sparks through his body every time.

L -> Little Ones (How are they around children?)

felix is so incredibly awkward. children love him to death, often flocking around him to hear tales of fights or just to watch him train, their little mouths slackjawed in awe as they aspired to be like him when they grew up

he never knows what to do when one clings themselves to his leg in a hello hug. the angel on his shoulder says to allow it, but the devil on the other side says to punt the kid across the courtyard. luckily he’s got enough self control to not.

M -> Mornings (How are mornings spent with them?)

felix is an early bird, much to your dismay. he wakes up at the crack of dawn to train before breakfast, but he always gives you a kiss goodbye and makes sure that you’re comfy and happy before leaving

on the mornings that you convince him to stay in for a while, which is rare, he doesn’t fall back asleep. instead, he just watches you as you doze off again, holding you close to him. he’s much softer when you’re not awake enough to tease him

N -> Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

felix lays on his back and you curl into his side, laying your head against his bare chest. silently, you trace your fingers against the scars on his torso and he writes sweet nothings on the skin of your arm, lulling you into a blissful sleep.

O -> Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

felix would never fully open himself up really. it’s just you being able to remember things that he did tell you and piecing them together. it’s not that he doesn’t trust you enough to tell you, it’s just that he’s not one to talk about things. you respect that, of course.

P -> Patience (How easily angered are they?)

as we all know, felix is quick to anger. he still is with others, but he’s really working on it when it comes to you. sometimes, he just gets worried about your well-being and his anxiety shows itself through anger, so small arguments often happen when you’re reckless or not taking care of yourself

he’s trying super hard to work on his communication skills so that he never upsets you with his outbursts again. he has his slip ups, but now that he’s able to verbally apologize, things get solved quicker.

Q -> Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

felix remembers everything, even if he doesn’t show it. he may seem extremely uninterested in the necklace you pointed out at the market after you dragged him shopping, but he’s making a mental note to come back later that day and buy it for you

R -> Remember (What’s their favorite moment in your relationship?)

felix’s favorite moment was when you first met his father. as rude as he is to his dad, he genuinely cares about him and his opinions. his father absolutely adored you and immediately told felix that you were the one. he agreed.

S -> Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

it’s felix. hes protective. there’s a line to be crossed between protective and possessive and he just barely tip toes that line. he’d destroy anyone who bothered you if you asked

on the other hand, felix doesn’t like to actually be protected. it makes him feel weak and vulnerable, so he’d prefer it if you weren’t too overbearing with it. he does think it’s hot if you get protective over him when it comes to some girl flirting with him though

T -> Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, etc?)

it depends on what your preferences are. if you’re okay with laid back dates and casual things, then he would be too. if you liked more grandeur, he’d try his hardest to make it perfect. goddess forbid anyone see him doing it, though

U -> Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

closing himself off. felix isn’t used to being vulnerable or open with people. hes been through copious amounts of trauma that he can’t just get over in a day, so there are still bad days where he’s not going to want to talk about his feelings or talk to anyone at all. it’s best to just let him train that day and bring him his meals. he’ll eat them, and will be super grateful that you’re still there for him, even if it’s just for a second to bring food.

V -> Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks? Do your looks bother them?)

felix does not care about this at all. he’s usually an advocate of the “fuck what other people think” mentality, even if he’s not too good at following it himself, and that’s going to carry into your relationship. he loves you for yourself, no matter what

W -> Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

felix would tell himself that he’d be fine with or without an s/o, but he does feel a little empty when you’re not around. the days that you two may have to spend apart due to busy schedules mean that those nights are a little more tender than usual

X -> Xtra (A random headcanon of them.)

felix’s ideal date isn’t training, like people say it would be. yeah, it’s nice to train with you, but if you don’t want that to be a date then it won’t be. he’d much rather just a chill day where the two of you are curled up on a couch or in the bed, talking and eating snacks or reading in silence

Y -> Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, in general or with a partner?)

felix wouldn’t like someone who’s nosy or pushy. he’s got a lot of boundaries and it’s a big deal to him when they’re crossed. he wants to be able to talk and be comfortable on his own time, not someone else’s. please be patient with him.

Z -> Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs? Does it change around a partner?)

felix is a kicker. you don’t know if it’s just his insanely acute battle instincts trying to get someone out of his bed or what, but you once woke up with a huge bruise on your calf from his heel. you didn’t tell him that he kicked you, though, because then he’d feel bad

this doesn’t really change at first, but the longer the two of you sleep together the less severe the kicks become. other than the occasional horse kick that nearly knocks you off the bed.

[buckys-old-habits]

Line Without A Hook (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (platonic)

Summary: Spencer is a broken man and sometimes he needs help facing his demons and doubts. Is it all really worth it? 

Word Count: 1.9k 

Genre: Hurt / Comfort

Inspiration: Line Without A Hook by Ricky Montgomery

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“There never can be a man so lost as one who is lost in the vast and intricate corridors of his own lonely mind, where none may reach and none may save.”

― Isaac Asimov, Pebble in the Sky

Working for the FBI is a challenge, office hours are horrible and the world never sleeps in the sense of the bad it can produce. 

The BAU is a special department that is necessary, saving people, catching bad guys, and being all and all nearly invisible in the back. Delving deep into the twisted and poisoned thoughts of people, formed by death, trauma, and snapped minds. Getting to know the horrible truth of what a broken childhood or a rejected mind can make people push to do. 

Day in and day out, watching, analyzing, staring death and danger in the face, pureness getting swallowed by the darkness of the world. Emotions and people’s lives getting lost and twisted. Seeing the aftermath of a person tortured, mutilated, traumatized, killed in the worst sense. Dead inside but staying alive for the outside world. 

Happy endings get swallowed by the next bad case, paperwork making you all relieve the horror you will carry into your sleep and dreams. Making you lock your door twice as secure as normally, work sneaking itself into your daily life.  

This work does things to all the members of the BAU, things that they try to hide and don’t want to remember any time soon. 

Kidnappings, drug uses, bullet wounds, mental and physical torture, loss through unsubs, the nagging feeling of doing the right thing and still not saving everyone, the downfall of your psyche because you were too slow and finally the reality that the bad in the world won’t just go away. 

In the years you were a part of the BAU you saw and experienced a lot of loss and trauma, on yourself or your trusted friends. You saw people come and go, happy at the start and broken in the end, smiles replaced by frowns. 

Gideon, Elle, Emily, Strauss, Alex, Kate, Aaron, Derek, and many more left because the job got in the way and too much. Trauma and resignment making them change their view on life and considering another way. 

You understand them and wish them all the best in the world, a life away from all the terrors that plague the daily world. 

But one person isn’t leaving, is still suffering in silence and putting on a strong face. A boy forced by trauma to grow into a man, a man that went through so much, alone and broken. 

Dr. Spencer Reid is the textbook example of the way this job with the BAU can form and bend you. He suffered through kidnappings, forced drug use, bullet wounds, near-death experiences, loss of his lover, betrayal, prison, family issues and so much more.  And he never even said a word when the world was showing him its darkest side.  

People noticed and tried to help, but Spencer is a stubborn man, pushing his needs and emotions into the background and giving his all for others and the cases. His genius mind can’t handle the thought of burdening someone else with his problems. He rode himself into them, so he has to find a way out. 

Sadly you saw the downfall of that thinking a few times. The secretive drug use while everybody knew, him shutting down after Maeve’s death, the way he grew harder to face the terror of the world. 

The way the soft and sweet boy from the start was forced to hide under a strong and colder man to protect himself from the jobs’ impact on the psyche. 

It’s not unusual for Spencer to disappear after some cases, just touched down with the jet and he is off, his head filled with dark and confusing thoughts. You watch him every time he rushes off the plane, throwing tight-lipped smiles to your coworkers. 

These are the moments where you realize that the young boy inside him is breaking through, threatening to drown under the darkness he accumulated over the years. 

You say your goodbyes to the others and follow the man out of the building, trying to catch up to him. Being one of his best friends sadly grants you the knowledge of how deep his thoughts can spiral and the way he tries to sift through them by himself. 

The way he will self sabotage himself until he is broken and doesn’t see the good in himself anymore.  Breaking him out of that spiral is nearly impossible, but you can slow the fall if you coax him out of his mind, which is your goal for this day. Further help will come when he accepts it. 

It’s late in the afternoon, the sun slowly setting and dipping the world into some fiery oranges and reds, a stark contrast to the green under your feet. When Spencer spirals he hides away from the world, trying to find comfort in the calm and quiet. While that was his apartment once, it holds too much sorrow and other words now for his mind to form its own. 

A soft smile settles on your lips when you see the familiar tall figure slumped under a weeping willow, the irony of the name not passing you by. It would have been amusing if you didn’t know the depths the tree already saw coming from Spencer. The many tears and dark thoughts that flow all around the dark bark. 

The lake was a resort of calm for Spencer, becoming his new safe haven. Not many bad things happen here and it’s secluded enough to let his thoughts wander, allowing him to break apart under the green leaves and the protective shield of the hanging branches.  Maybe he specifically sought out this tree because of the name. It’s a place for him to weep and feel his emotions. 

Slowly, to not startle the man, you settle on the soft grass, keeping some distance between your folded legs. Spencer doesn’t deal well with touch and when his mind is occupied it's even more unwelcome. His body will reach out when it needs the comfort of another person. 

Calm and silence encase you, only the warm wind rustling through the heavy branches and the soft whispering of the water in the lake, reminding you of the life in nature. 

The first time you found Spencer here, through the help of an app on his phone, the calm stifled you and made you worry a lot more about his mental health.  But now you can see the way it is the opposite of the job, the cases, the horror, the darkness. 

Spencer shifts beside you, his leg nudging yours and you smile, keeping your eyes on the water. Many visits here made him realize he can open up to you, but he still feels like a burden, so you learned to wait. 

Wait for him to speak, to settle his thoughts, and open himself up to another person. Sometimes it only takes minutes, sometimes hours and sometimes the dark of the night will leave you with no words from him at all. 

Quietly you turn your hand so the grass tickles the back of it, opening yourself up for his touch. It takes a bit but then you feel the warmth of his fingers close around yours, hesitant and then stronger and nearly desperate.  You stroke his skin and he finally looks at you, mustering you with deep brown eyes, questions lingering just under the surface. 

Meeting his gaze, you stay quiet and wait, not breaking eye contact while he tries to sort his thoughts to convey them to you. Because this is the time he wants to share, share his doubts, his dreams, his ideas, and his desperations. 

“Is it worth it?”

It’s a whispered and choked question coming from him, his voice shaking at the end, making your heart clench in your chest. It’s a loaded question, one that would make or break him.  Squeezing his hand, you take a deep breath and settle your view back onto the lake.  To be honest, you asked yourself the same question a lot already. Every bad case lingers for days and the fact that you were too slow, too unknowing, too helpless, settles heavily on you. 

Could you have done more? Would the victim still be alive if you were just… better? Faster? More?  But this is what breaks you, makes you spiral, and lets you forget the light in life. The good side that challenges the dark. 

You look back at Spencer and meet his teary eyes, ready to spill the sorrow and pain he holds. 

“I don’t know, Spencer. I won’t lie to you. I don’t know if this job is worth the pain and suffering. But I know that the result will only be the same when you let it dictate you. I once thought that going would be the best course of action, just leave and let it behind you. All the death and blood and horror. But I can’t”, you laugh dryly, the thought heavy on your heart. 

“I can’t let the darkness win. I can’t just ignore the way that bad people will win when nobody is fighting for the light anymore. So no, it might not be worth it, but I can’t live with myself when I don’t try. I will lose myself when I let them win.”

You sigh, a deep and heavy sound, making you realize that you aren’t that black and white either. Not as deeply traumatized as Spencer, but still scarred by the job you handle.  It seems unavoidable when you stare at the darkest emotions and twisted minds daily. 

Spencer’s grip on your hand tightens and his knee settles heavily on yours, desperate for the warmth and the solidity that is your body, your presence. 

He is quiet, but you can hear his thoughts running around his brilliant mind, racing to catch his attention. Trying to process your words and applying the meaning to himself, adding to his own beliefs or changing it. 

Slowly you lift your hand and touch his cheek, wet with spilled tears, and he watches you, his whole attention on you.  You smile, amused by the fact how quickly you dust his mind with a touch. 

“Spencer, I would take it all. All the pain, if I could. But I can’t.”

He nods slowly, unknowingly leaning into your touch while you stroke his skin, wiping away the tears and wishing you could heal his broken soul. 

“What I can do is give you my promise. I promise you that I will be there to pull you from the depths of your mind. You don’t deserve the darkness that plagues you and I will do my best to make you realize that there is still so much light inside you.”

Spencer takes your hand from his cheek and pushes forward, crushing into your body and clutching onto you. Sobs wrack him and wet tears soak into your shoulder, all his emotions rushing out and leaving him a scared boy, the same one that saw his dad leave. 

With a heavy heart, you hold onto him, arms secure around him, shielding him and his vulnerability from the world. 

“There's a sorrow and pain in everyone's life, but every now and then there's a ray of light that melts the loneliness in your heart and brings comfort like hot soup and a soft bed.”

― Hubert Selby Jr., Requiem for a Dream

[drabbles-of-writing]

Of Fangs and Fright

AO3

Masterpost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Now, being dead came with a few more complications than one might expect.

Or, well, being half dead, if you wanted to be less morbid.

Now, it wasn’t all bad. There were the cool powers. Like invisibility, flying, possession, phasing through objects, being able to convincingly look sicker than a zombie…

Anyway.

Many of these powers ghosts shared in common. So long they weren’t ghosts flickering out of existence, they possessed (heh, ghost joke) these abilities. However, simple powers weren’t the only thing ghosts shared in common.

All ghosts had some green on them, it was their ectoplasm. They all had a core of their powers, and all sentient ghosts had at least one obsession. Plus a couple of smaller traits, mostly physical.

Also, they all had fangs.

Luz had to find that out the hard way.

,

A loud beeping noise woke Luz from her slumber, jerking her awake as she fell off her bed. The girl groaned, sitting up and rubbing the back of her head as she blindly reached for her clock on the bed stand and turned off the alarm.

“Ow,” She whined, feeling that she’d bitten her tongue in her fall. She felt around her mouth a bit, tasting blood until something made her pause.

She gently poked her tongue around the top of her mouth, and sure enough, two teeth felt...sharper.

It pricked the tip of her tongue again and Luz grumbled, pulling herself to her feet. She figured her teeth had just gotten a bit too sharp from some wear and tear. It’s not like she was averse to biting into some weird-tasting ghosts and objects. Don’t ask.

She stepped into the bathroom and paused, looking into her mirror. It always unnerved her to look into a mirror. The dark circles around her eyes, the way she slouched, the dullness to her skin, all of it. None of it was inherently creepy, but it somehow worked. To Luz, and everyone around her, something about her seemed off. Like she was floating through the motions and was not at all there and maybe never was.

Luz shook off the existential horror of wondering if she’d be unnerving for the rest of her life and stood in front of the sink, yawning.

She froze, her mouth still hanging open.

There, resting in her mouth, were two sharp teeth.

They weren’t remarkably noticeable, in fact if she wasn’t looking for little odd things about her every other day (learning ghostly things about yourself in the middle of a fight was not fun) she never would’ve realized. But she was sure her canines weren’t that pointy before. She leaned forward, curling her lip as she inspected her teeth.

Her tongue had ceased bleeding, it was only a small mark anyway. And she could see flecks of blood still on her left tooth. She shuttered and pulled back, closing her mouth.

This was fine. A bit of sharpness to her teeth was fine. It couldn’t be all that bad.

,

Three days later, hunched over in her bed with an ice pack pressed to her face, Luz realized, with much regret, that she had jinxed herself.

Her teeth ached. It felt like her gums were being pushed apart from the inside, which, come to think of it, they probably were.

“Show me again,” Willow said, sitting on the bed beside Luz.

Luz sighed and took the ice away and opened her mouth. Willow squinted at her teeth for a moment before stepping back onto the floor, where Gus had a bunch of papers spread about in a weird sort of discussion board.

Luz put ice back over her mouth and watched as Willow muttered under her breath and picked up a picture of one of the ghosts, Adegast, if Luz remembered correctly, and inspected it.

“I really think this is just a regular ghost thing,” Willow said after a moment, showing the picture to Luz. “Every other ghost you’ve fought has some kind of fangs, it's not that big of a stretch to say you’d get some, too.”

“And normally, I would agree,” Luz said, wincing and holding the pack tighter. “Fangs are cool. But not when I’m human!” She exclaimed. “Er, in my human form, I guess. Is that what it's called?” She hummed, staring off in thought.

“Well, you may get lucky,” Gus piped up, taking the picture of Adegast trying to attack the camera and bringing up smaller ghost pictures. “They may just look a little abnormally sharp and that would be the end of it. There are plenty of people who have sharper canines, not everyone's teeth are flat.”

Lux relaxed with a sigh, leaning forward as she crossed her legs.

“But there’s also a possibility you could end up with teeth as long as fingers,” He said, bringing up a picture of a ghost with teeth like a saber tooth tiger.

Luz stared at the picture for a moment before groaning and falling back onto her bed. She grabbed her pillow and covered her face with it, ice pack discarded at her side.

Willow lightly smacked the back of Gus’s head.

“I’m sure it won’t get that noticeable,” Willow assured her. “Aren’t Eda’s natural teeth normal looking?”

“They’re still a bit sharp,” Luz muffled around her pillow. “The gold tooth is, and I quote, a ‘misdirection.’ Like a magician's cute assistant, you know?”

“No idea how that works, but I think I get it.” Gus nodded.

“Well, it’s not like suddenly getting pointy teeth is an immediate correlation for being a ghost, or even Phantom.” Willow insisted. “Worst case scenario, everyone thinks you're becoming a vampire, which actually would be pretty normal at this point.”

“Please be aware there is a group of goths in this school,” Luz said, tossing the pillow aside and sitting up. “And Jerbo is convinced I’m a ghost. Even if nobody believes him, people are going to ask questions about the fangs, and I’m a terrible liar! You know this!”

“I mean, you managed to hide your Phantom,” Gus pointed out.

“That’s because everyone in this town is a moron.” Willow deadpanned.

“Okay, but you have to put this into perspective. Half-ghosts aren’t a commonly known or expected thing.” Gus reminded, pushing his pictures into a pile.

“Neither are regular ghosts! Or werewolves! Or talking bone dogs! And yet, people notice that! Or at least recognize it's not normal,” Willow exclaimed, exasperated. “And only Jerbo has noticed something is off with Luz.”

“I was already pretty weird,” Luz offered, flinching and rubbing at her cheek.

“I can’t win,” Willow sighed, her shoulders sagging.

“This was never a winning situation for anyone,” Luz said matter-of-factly. “Now somebody give me the nail filer on my desk.”

“Do not file down your teeth! Why am I even telling you that?”

,

“My tongue is going to be so scarred--ow,”

“Maybe refrain from talking?” Willow advised gently as Luz stuck on her tongue, revealing it was lightly bleeding after she had accidentally bitten it. Again.

It had barely been a week and Luz’s growing-in fangs were proving to be more trouble than they were worth. If they were worth anything at all.

They had gotten larger, not to a scary degree, but were certainly abnormal. And she’d even begun to get two small fangs on her lower jaw,

And maybe talking about this in the school hallways wasn’t the best idea. But the group wasn’t known for their intelligence, and Willow was fried.

“Well, either her tongue will get stronger or she’ll learn how to not bite her tongue,” Gus shrugged as Luz shut her locker. “Eda managed.”

“Eda is three decades older than--ow,” Luz whined, covering her hand with ther mouth.

“What did I just say?” Willow sighed.

“Hey, four eyes!”

The group recognized that voice, and you could physically see them deflate as Luz dropped her hand. Willow sighed and mentally prepared herself.

“Here we go again,”

The sound of snickering drew their attention, to where Boscha and her A-Listers, or whatever they called themselves, was passing right by them, smug smiles plastered to their faces. Well, aside from Amity, who looked a mix between bored and mildly concerned. She caught Luz’s eye and smiled ever so slightly.

“Heard a ghost wrecked your pretty little garden recently,” Boscha said, her eyes narrowing in that sadistically gleeful way. “Aren’t you lucky Phantom decided to grace you, huh?”

Luz visibly cringed at that, giving Willow a guilty look. She’d insisted she could help Willow replant that garden, but she had declined. Numerous times.

“Things happen,” Willow shrugged, turning away and checking over her books boredly. “At least I don’t lie about seeing Phantom every other week.”

Luz and Gus glanced at each other with shared concerned looks. They subtly backed off a bit, deciding they’d rather not get involved in the weekly brawl.

“You wanna speak up, fern girl?” Boscha growled, already beginning to take a step forward.

“Leave her, Boscha.” 

Amity broke from the group and put a hand on the girl's shoulder, lightly holding her back as she looked at her with a half-lidded expression.

“She’s not worth the energy. We have class soon.” She said calmly.

Boscha muttered and stepped back, shrugging off Amity. The rest of the group quickly stepped aside as Boscha stormed through, throwing a ‘you’ll be sorry!’ over her shoulder for good measure.

“I’m gonna bite her,” Luz muttered under her breath.

“You have no idea how much it pains me to tell you no,” Willow replied.

“Sorry about that,” Amity mumbled, suddenly appearing in front of the trio. Or maybe she was always there, Luz couldn’t remember. 

“We’re used to it,” Gus said simply. “Honestly, I was expecting a better insult than ‘fern girl.’”

“Yeah, she's off her game,” Amity agreed as Luz giggled. 

“One could say she’s…off her A game--” Luz winced, bringing her hand back up to her face.

“Boo, bad joke.” Gus shook his head distastefully.

“Are you alright?” Amity asked, frowning at Luz holding her hand up.

“Yeah! Yeah, just, uh,” Luz chose her words carefully and slowly as she quickly pulled her hand away and crossed her arms. “Bit my tongue is all,”

“We should head to class,” Willow cut in quickly, appearing next to Luz and grabbing her arm. “Like you said, it’s going to start soon and lord knows how bad our grades are already.”

“Oh, right!” Amity shook her head like she was clearing it. “I’ll see you later, guys.”

“Yeah, bye,” Luz echoed, giving a smile as Willow tugged her away.

Amity watched the three leave with a smile of her own for a moment before her eyes dipped for a moment on Luz. Her eyes widened and she did a double-take, a moment of concerned horror flashing on her features.

Luz, having a guess on what she noticed, suddenly picked up speed and darted around the hallway corner, accidentally yanking Willow with her.

“Whoa, whoa, what happened--”

“How do my teeth look?” Luz cut off Gus, opening her mouth wide. “Do they look worse?”

Willow and Gus recoiled slightly, minorly concerned as Luz worriedly shut her mouth again.

“You have...blood on your teeth,” Willow said carefully. “It, uh, kinda makes you look like…”

“A vampire,” Gus finished for her, unhelpfully.

Luz was about to poke at her teeth with her tongue, but thought better of it. She rubbed a finger instead at one of her fangs and drew it back, noticing that there was, indeed, blood on them.

“I’m going to die of blood loss at this point,” Luz groaned.

“Can you even die again--”

“Not in the mood for an existential crisis, Gus.”

,

“What, no witty comeback, Phantom?”

The halfa yelped as Roselle’s snarky remark was enunciated by Dottie slamming her against a building. She growled and curled her lips back, shaking the rubble off her as she rose into the air, her green eyes flashing.

Roselle’s smug look fell. Normally Phantom would be happy to see that, but typically that smug expression isn’t replaced by that of gleeful surprise.

“Phantom,” Roselle grinned, and even Dottie paused for a moment to see what her partner was pointing at.

“Don’t,”

“Phantom are you growing your baby fangs?”

“They sure don’t feel like baby--ow,” Phantom winced, sticking out her tongue as she bit it for the umpteenth time.

“Aw, wittle Phantom got her baby fangs.” Roselle cooed

“How cute!” Dottie agreed as Roselle placed her hand on her shoulder.

“I liked you better when you were trying to rip me apart,” Phantom huffed, her face glowing with blush as she crossed her arms and legs, hovering in the air.

“A word of advice,” Roselle said sweetly. “Mouthguards do wonders, if you can find one to steal. Pain medication still works on you, right?”

“Yes, yes, thank you for the words of wisdom, granny.” Phantom grumbled, giving the ghost a glare and a sneer. “Can I go back to--” Phantom flinched, fangs pricking her tongue again.

The teasing grins on both of the ghostly womens faces only widened and Phantom sharpened her glare, electricity sparking through her.

“Can we fight now?” Phantom drawled out slowly, as to avoid biting her tongue again.

“Right, yes, of course,” Dottie said, nodding as she waved her hand. “Where were we, dear?” She turned to Roselle.

“I believe you were trying to throw her into a stop sign?” Roselle hummed, tapping her chin and frowning. “Or was it a pipe? One of the two.”

Phantom rolled her eyes at the two conversing and uncrossed her arms, a ball of green lightning slowly forming above her open left palm.

“No, no, I think you were--”

Lightning crackled and shot right between the two ghosts, striking the wall of an old building behind them.

They slowly looked at the indent on the wall. Then, just as slowly, they looked back at Phantom, who had landed on the ground and was in a fighting stance, another ball of electricity already building up.

“I think I remember where,” Phantom paused and curled her lip again at the pain. She threw her hands in the air. “Or for the love of--”

The lightning flew from her hands, hitting the street a good ways behind her. It exploded and shook the ground, setting off a few car alarms.

Phantom visibly shrinked at the explosion, her shoulders tense.

Dottie opened her mouth, about to say something. Phantom raised her hand quickly and silenced her.

“Not a word,”

,

“Kid, I don’t know what to tell ya. This is pretty natural for ghosts,”

“It is ruining my life.”

“Your dead,”

“Eda,”

“Right, right,” Eda raised her hands, stepping away from the couch Luz was dramatically laying across on her back. “Existential crisis and whatnot, my bad.”

“I’m wearing a mouthguard,” Luz growled, though it came out like a lisp. “I look like a werewolf.”

“So do I,” Eda reminded her, sitting on the end of the couch where Luz’s feet were. “And I’m doing great.” She said, curling her upper lip and flashing her non-gold fang, which was nearly as long as her golden one. The only difference was that the gold fang was crooked and hooked out of her mouth.

“You live in a shed by an abandoned brewery,” Luz lifted her hands, gesturing to the Owl House, as Eda liked to call it. “With all due respect, I wouldn’t call this the lap of luxury.”

“Eh, who needs luxury?” Eda shrugged.

“Yeesh, you give the kid a taste of the other side and suddenly your scoundrels,” King muffled, poking his head out from under the couch.

“I have been to Amity’s house once.” Luz hissed, snapping her jaws shut when she realized it came out as an actual hiss.

“Aw, now that was adorable.”

“Shut up,”

“Wait, hang on, I was talking about that time you spent in the Guys in White’s fancy van you’ve been to Amity’s house?” King whirled around, staring up at Luz in surprise.

“...I’m suddenly deaf,” Luz lisped, her voice slurred as she lay her head back against the couch armrest. “Words? I don’t know them.”

“You got into a rich girls house and you didn’t steal anything?” Eda gasped, placing a hand on her chest. “I’ve never been more betrayed in my life.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” King deadpanned.

“I’m not stealing from Amity!” Luz gasped, glaring across the couch. “She’s my friend! Go steal from her parents yourself,”

“I was given permission!” King pumped a fist in the air. Paw? Claw? Whatever you call the hands of a ghost dog with opposable thumbs.

“Now, now,” Eda grabbed King by the scruff before Luz could protest, pulling him up and holding him like that. “Be nice. Luz has to make a good impression on her crush. You don’t get a rich girl every day, you know.”

“Crush?” Luz yelped, jerking up so violently she shocked herself with her own stray lightning and fell off the couch with a thud.

“Oh right,” Eda snapped her fingers. “That’s another topic I’m not supposed to mention.” She grinned knowingly, dropping King on Luz.

Luz doubled over when King landed on her stomach, wheezing. King just looked up at her curiously before Luz lifted her head, her freckles beginning to glow green as electricity sparked around them.

“I do not have a crush on Amity! I tell you this all the time!” Luz exclaimed, feeling her face and grumbling when she was shocked again. “And now I lost my mouthguard,” She muttered, looking around for where it fell out.

Eda and King glanced at each other, mirroring the same disbelieving tired faces. But they didn’t say anything as Luz picked up King and set him aside, looking for where she spat out the mouthguard.

“Alright, we’ll drop that obvious lie for now,” Eda relented, walking up beside Luz and putting a hand on her shoulder. “But wearing a mouthguard is only gonna do so much. Sure, it’s nice to wear every now and again, but the more you get used to talking and eating with these ol’ pointers, the easier it’ll get for you.”

“But I’m a fast talker,” Luz protested. “Even if I get used to talking normally, I’m still not used to talking fast. And then I just keep on talking, and talking, and then I keep biting my tongue and then I start bleeding and--ow!” She yelped, recoiling mid-talk.

“Bit it again?”

Luz whined dramatically and turned, thunking her head against Eda’s chest. Eda stared at her for a moment before sighing and smiling as she rested a hand over Luz’s back and head.

“I know it's not fun, but that's just how life, er, this limbo we’re in is gonna be.” She said, patting her back.

“Pros and cons,” Luz muffled into her chest. “Pros, ghost things. Cons, ghost things.” She said, her words slow but enunciated.

“Welcome to my world, kiddo.” Eda chuckled.

“You don’t even fight--” Luz hissed, scrunching up her face before continuing. “--other ghosts,”

“No, but they’re still annoying.” Eda agreed.

“Oh, hey, I found the mouth thing!”

“King you better spit that out!”

,

In hindsight, sticking to the bottom of the Witch Hunter’s hoverboard, aka, a young ghost hunter known for not liking her, was probably not the smartest idea.

Then again, Phantom’s plans are pretty hit-or-miss.

Phantom crawled up the bottom of the hoverboard, peeking up. The dark purple coloring of the Witch Hunter’s suit nearly blended in with the night sky above her, and she clearly wasn’t paying attention.

With a mischievous grin, Phantom slowly gripped the front end of the board and leaned up, laying her chin on the end.

“Hey,”

The Witch Hunter yelped, whirling her head down as the hoverboard skidded to a stop. Phantom wasn’t prepared for that and went flying out from underneath the board, hitting the flat roof of a building and rolling right off the edge. 

But hey, at least the metal trash cans broke her fall.

Phantom groaned, attempting to peel herself out of the trash bags and pulling a banana peel off her head in disgust. She heard a snort and looked up.

The Witch Hunter was crouched on the edge of the roof, peering over. The black plastic screen over her face on the suit hid her expression, but Phantom just knew she was trying not to laugh.

“Alright, so maybe I deserved that,” Phantom relented, kicking away the last of the trash and floating up.

The Witch Hunter quickly leaned back as Phantom placed her hands on the edge of the roof, leaning on it slightly as the rest of her body was suspended by nothing in the air.

“But still, you gotta get better at noticing when I’m around.” Phantom chuckled with a grin, shaking her head.

In a flash, an ectogun was being pointed at her face, right between her eyes.

Phantom’s face dropped slightly, her eyes crossing as she looked down the barrel of the gun. Her eyes then went back to the Witch Hunter, who was still on her knees, but holding the ectogun in a way that said she wasn’t afraid to use it.

“I can never have a single moment of fun with you, can I?” Phantom sighed.

“And yet, you still succeed.” The Witch Hunter said, putting a finger on the trigger.

“I appreciate you trying to put a stop to that. You took the job everybody wanted but nobody was brave enough to try as diligently. Bravo,” Phantom nodded solemnly.

“I wish you luck,” She blinked, a smirk growing.

The Witch Hunter stared at her for a moment. Then another. She glanced around slowly before looking back to Phantom, who was still in the same position as before.

“Okay, two things,” The Witch Hunter said. “One, what am I waiting for?”

“What?” Phantom looked down at herself, inspecting her hand.

“Oh,” She deflated, looking back up to the Witch Hunter sheepishly. “I still haven’t mastered the whole ‘invisibility on command’ thing.”

“...I genuinely can’t tell if your stupid or bad at planning,” The Witch Hunter said, sounding like she was rolling her eyes.

“Fifty fifty on that,” Phantom raised a hand and tilted it.

“Secondly, what is with your teeth?” The Witch Hunter said, leaning her head forward slightly. “Is everyone getting weird teeth today?”

“Oh come on!” Phantom groaned, throwing her head back. “I just forgot about them!”

“What?” The Witch Hunter lowered her ectogun slightly.

“It’s been an issue all week,” Phantom complained, swinging her legs over the side of the roof and sitting on the edge, crossing her legs. “I forget about the fangs, I can talk easier. But when I think about them, I--” She flinched, hissing as she felt a prick.

“...that’s what you're worried about right now?” The Witch Hunter said disbelievingly.

“I’m bad at picking my battles,” Phantom shrugged. “Anyway, you’ve cursed me. You owe me compensation.”

“The hell I do!”

“If there is a hell, I’ll be sure to inform them of your grievances,” Phantom waved her hand casually. “But on the plus side, I’m getting better at not biting my to--ow,” 

“You’re a ghost,” The Witch Hunter deadpanned, getting to her feet with a sigh. “Shouldn’t it be normal to have fangs? Why didn’t you have them before?”

“Well I’m sorry but I’m a little new to all this,” Phantom huffed, floating up in the air, her legs still crossed, as well as her arms.

The Witch Hunter paused, looking over the ghost. It was only then Phantom realized that she, a ghost, had stated she was new to being one.

Phantom wished she could see her expression. Not being able to tell what she looked like at that exact moment felt like a nightmare.

“Phantom, are you--”

The halfa darted forward, flying around the Witch Hunter at blinding speeds and proceeding to kick the ectogun out of her grasp, sending it sliding to the other side of the roof.

“Little slow today, aren’t we?” Phantom quickly recovered, suddenly popping up right in front of the Witch Hunter’s face with a wide grin, fangs exposed.

The Witch Hunter grunted as she grabbed a small ectoblade (they really needed to get more original with these names) from her suits belt and swung it at Phantom.

Phantom flew a few feet away, cackling. She landed by the ectogun and kicked it up with her foot, trying to catch it midair but fumbling with it for a few moments instead.

“Somebody ought to put a muzzle on you,” The Witch Hunter muttered, taking a step back towards her hoverboard, which lay on the ground a little ways away.

“Why?” Phantom grinned, tossing the ectogun somewhere off the roof where the Witch couldn’t get to it. “Scared I’m gonna bite you?” She taunted, holding her hands behind her back and leaning forward, though she still remained a few feet away.

The Witch Hunter made a noise that sounded close between a yelp and a gargle. Almost strangled as she nearly dropped her blade.

“Oh wait, actually,” Phantom frowned, looking at the ground for a moment. “Could I bite people? Or would that give them ghost powers?” She mumbled, looking at her hands. “Am I a vampire ghost?”

The ectoblade flew right by Phantom’s head, ruffling her hair. She stiffened as the blade managed to somehow embed itself into the roof behind her, just before it hit the edge.

Phantom raised her head, spotting the Witch Hunter grabbing what appeared to be a regular silver ball from her belt. She pressed a button on the ball, transforming it into a portable ectogun.

“...okay, that’s kinda cool.” Phantom admitted.

“You have five seconds,”

Phantom took the hint and in mere seconds, shot off. She dropped out of sight beyond the roof without a word.

The Witch Hunter sighed, relaxing her arm and sagging. She watched the place where Phantom had vanished for a few more moments before turning around.

And almost crashed face-first into bright, sparking green eyes.

“I almost--ow,” Phantom whined, sticking out her tongue as the Witch Hunter jumped back.

Phantom had somehow managed to silently float behind her and was hovering in the air, upside down and at eye-level with the young ghost hunter.

“I almost forgot,” Phantom said, her voice lisp-y as she kept the tip of her tongue poking out of her mouth so as to avoid biting it again. As well as revealing its neon green color, and the fact it was beginning to become split like a snake.

Phantom probably didn’t realize that was happening yet.

Not that the Witch was looking.

“I will see you,” Phantom said, flipping over in the air so she was rightside up, slowly floating backwards. “On the fright side.” She said, winking and giving finger guns.

“Get out of here!” The Witch Hunter snapped, grabbing another silver ball from her belt and chucking it at the ghost.

Phantom yelped and got knocked in the head, complaining as she finally took off, down the streets of the town.

“I’m hilarious and you know it!” She called behind her.

“You are not!”

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shadow And Pills - Part 1 Preview

Summary: Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all. Alexa comes away with a shadow.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Warnings: RAPE, Torture, Abuse, Self Harm, Negative Images of Psychological Services/Mental Health Professionals, Hallucinations, Stalking, Supernatural Horror, Prescription Drug Use and Eventual Abuse, Mental Illness, PTSD, Flashbacks of Violence, Flashbacks of Tragedy, Starving Oneself, Isolation, Physical and Mental Exhaustion, Denial, Self Neglect, Gaslighting, Mental Spiraling, Mental and Emotional Abuse

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This is not a happy story in any sense, at any point. I could only write this at my lowest places, emotionally and mentally speaking, and I had a hard time coming back from it. This is dark, and it does not at any point get lighter. I relied heavily on my own experiences with mental struggles and took a few pieces here and there from my own experiences with mental health professionals. MY EXPERIENCES ARE MY OWN AND ARE NOT TYPICAL, NOT EVEN FOR ME.

Extra thanks to @glassjacket and @thoughtslikeaminefield for not only helping me through this story but also through those dark moments. I wouldn’t be here without both of you. Period. And thank you, @glassjacket for your guidance and textwork on the image. 💙

If you need mental help of any kind, please DO NOT HESITATE TO REACH OUT TO GET IT. This story was an exercise in mental exorcism, in a sense.

For all the Loki lovers out there, I do not shine him anything like a good or redeeming light here. He is evil incarnate, more or less. I love Loki, I love good Loki and redeemed Loki and misunderstood Loki and just about every incarnation thereof. I needed a villain, and he fit the story.

Above all, please be kind. This was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever written, and it took me years to work up the courage to post it.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Word Count: 1 - 3785; 2 - 3513; 3 - 1068

In Case You Missed It: ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Shadows and Pills: Part 1 Preview

Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all.

Alexa comes away with a shadow.

In the weeks following the disaster, the public equally lauds and decries the Avengers, but while their opinions are divided over the heroes, the villain is universally denounced as nothing short of Satan himself, and the city throws an actual celebration the day Thor takes Loki back to Asgard to face the justice of their people.

Alexa, having not turned on her television since the day she got home from the hospital, ignores the boisterous celebrants and goes about her shopping, earbuds firmly in place, frown lines now permanently etched between her eyes and around her pinched lips.

“Routine will help you through some of the worst days,” her therapist tells her during one session. “Something familiar and safe to retreat to when the flashbacks are the worst. Just give it a try,” he adds at her disbelieving grimace.

And so she sets a routine.

Morning Routine: wake up. Ignore alarm, lie in bed an extra thirty minutes or so. Shower. Pretend to eat breakfast. Take meds (this one she never skips or shirks). Find something to wear. Stare at it for another ten minutes. Eventually get dressed. Contemplate keys for another fifteen minutes. Leave the goddamned apartment already.

Her routine has varying results, although she does admit to her therapist that life is marginally more bearable with the routine than without.

“It’s nice to have something to look forward to for the next day.”

Her therapist can’t quite hide his grimace at her flat, deadened tone, but she’s not being sarcastic or rude. She finds that going to bed at night is a trifle easier when she knows what’s going to happen the next day.

“So, who are we up to today?” the doctor asks, switching the subject with awkward abruptness. It’s been six weeks since Hell came to New York, and during their twice-weekly meetings, her therapist suggests going through each of the people she saw die in front of her that day, to get closure...or say goodbye...or something.

Sometimes Alexa wonders whether he just wants to hear the details for his own perverse pleasure.

“Brenda.”

Alexa robotically begins to list the personal details she knows...knew...about her floor manager. Unlike the mail room intern she discussed at their last meeting, the list for Brenda goes on for a while. She’s worked with Brenda since she started at the company, learning most of what she knows about her current job from the woman.

Brenda was kind, sharply intelligent, and mothering to everyone under her supervision, and yet she did it in a way that didn’t make anyone uncomfortable. She balanced work and a family long and well enough to both receive regular promotions within the company and also, very recently, become a new grandmother.

The backs of Alexa’s eyes sting as she remembers the photo Brenda showed her not twenty minutes before part of the building collapsed on top of half the department. Her jaw locks as the scene plays before her eyes again, the explosions and shrieks of metal drowning out the shrieks of the people only five feet away.

She closes her eyes, but there’s no pause button to freeze the scene, no power button to shut the images off as she turns in her memory and runs, making it to the stairwell and slamming the door open, turning back and screaming for Brenda, straining her eyes through the smoke and dust and mountains of falling debris. Brenda is running, reaching for Alexa even though she seems miles away, and then one of the file cabinets is thrown over, propelled faster and harder than should be possible, and...and…

And then Brenda isn’t running anymore. Her outstretched hand, the only part of her that wasn't crushed by office furniture, spasms against the ruined carpet, as if it thinks it’s reached its destination and is grasping at its savior.

Alexa’s hand tingles, and her fingers lock into her palm, nails fitting easily into the little grooves she dug there weeks ago. No blood, she only dug that deep once, but the furrows remain as permanently etched there as the frown lines on her face.

Alexa struggles to take in a labored breath as her therapist watches her with the appropriate amount of professional, clinical sympathy and detachment.

“Do your counting,” he reminds her.

How could she forget? She counts to three once, letting a breath out at the end. She repeats the process twice more, ignoring her therapist’s brief flash of annoyance at her departure from his “system.” But, for once, he doesn’t ask her why she has to deviate from the standard one-to-ten method and just lets her do the goddamned counting in peace.

Small blessings.

“Have you had any flashbacks since our last session?”

She stares at him, letting her gaze rest heavy and disbelieving as she turns his question over. She’s been averaging about five flashbacks a day, triggered by everything from accidentally brushing a stranger on the sidewalk (Jim knocking past her to get down the stairs just as the door on the stairwell behind her explodes inward; more shrieking, then falling, then dark) to lifting a carton of cold milk from the shelf at the grocery (that impossibly cold hand grasping hers, pulling her up from the rubble, bringing her face to face with...something...something in the...shadows, it was so dark there, and…).

“Yeah. I’ve had some flashbacks since our last session.”

“What sort of coping strategies did you use?”

He’s not even meeting her eyes now, just getting notes down on that damned pad. The scratching of his pen grates into her bones, and Alexa grits her teeth as she glares.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

She slowly recites the list of strategies he suggested during a previous session, none of which have proven particularly effective at lessening the frequency of the episodes, but most of which she grudgingly admits provide some slight relief afterwards and allow her to refocus her mind on the present rather than dwelling in the memory.

“And the shadows?”

How can he get this wrong every time when he’s taking all those fucking notes?

“Still just the one.”

“Has it manifested in any other way? Asked you to do anything? Do you feel different in any way when you notice it?”

There’s a distasteful eagerness to his words that always turns Alexa’s stomach, and she has to physically bite into her tongue to keep from asking what kind of bonus he gets for each symptom she shows of different mental illnesses.

“It’s just there sometimes. I..” She hesitates, feeling vaguely nauseated from his questions, but she has to be honest, right? Because, ultimately, it’s his job to help her, and she’s never going to get through this by hiding symptoms. He can’t help fix her if he doesn’t know what’s broken, and he did suggest the routine, so, okay, he gets a pass for this one.

“I still mostly only see it before I’m falling asleep. I’ve started seeing it in the late afternoon, as well, not often, but sometimes. Always in shadows that are already there. It doesn’t talk or anything, doesn’t really have any face or form except for vaguely person-shaped, but it...it watches me. And it’s...denser than it was last week. More...it’s thicker than it was, like when you see wispy clouds kind of...gather and turn into storm clouds?”

He nods, his pen whizzing over the legal pad he records their session notes on. “So, you feel threatened by the shadow? Like it’s storm clouds gathering to...what? It feels menacing?”

But, like most of the questions Alexa fences in this office, this one isn’t easily answered.

“It feels like it’s watching me, waiting for something. I don’t know what. I don’t...I don’t know if it’s menacing, exactly. Like, it feels potentially dangerous, but I can’t tell if it’s for me. I don’t know. It’s just...darker and more there this week, but it doesn’t do anything, and I don’t feel different, and it doesn’t speak to me. I. Don’t. Hear. Voices.”

She clips off each word at the end of her rant separately and precisely, repeating her counting in her head, and she forces her breathing to even out. The doctor is just doing his job, he’s just trying to help, he’s supposed to ask these questions, it’s how he helps-

“Hmm. I’ll have to consider that between now and our next meeting. In the meantime, go ahead and move up to the next dosage step with your meds, keep it on the escalating schedule we set.”

You set, she thinks mutinously for a moment before internally shaking her head. She nods, biting her tongue once more. She’s going to have a permanent indentation there as well, at this rate.

“Any side effects? Itching, swelling, difficulty breathing? Any unreasonable lethargy or detachment?”

“I mean...I don’t really have anything to attach to at this point, so…”

He frowns at her again, and she wonders if he’s going to crank up her dosage two notches instead of one.

“Are you having what you feel are typical emotional responses to everyday stimuli? Have you laughed or smiled at anything yet? How long has it been since you emotionally felt anything besides the frustration and panic?”

And, somehow, this question is difficult, too. She struggles through, trying to find a balance between honesty and not making herself look like a complete failure who can't function in life. She doesn’t help her case when she admits she hasn’t followed many of his suggestions beyond establishing a routine.

“Not even exercising?” he asks, his disappointment palpable.

When she silently shakes her head, her lips pinched tight against his disapproval, he shakes his head with a sigh that sings of ultimate betrayal. Instead of berating her as usual, the doctor frowns and looks down at his notes, considering them silently. He clicks his tongue against his teeth for a moment before switching over to end-session mode, robotically delivering his closing remarks, his typical reminders to keep her meds on a strict schedule at the exact time every day, to avoid all alcohol and unprescribed drugs, to keep her diet as clean and unprocessed as possible, and to get plenty of exercise. Even this last bit is delivered with a sharply clinical detachment, as if she has driven him to the brink of her own psychoses by stubbornly refusing to accept his help.

There is a short, silent moment between them where they refuse to look at each other, the doctor perusing his notes once more while Alexa examines the wrinkles creased into her jeans from lack of folding. The doctor flips pages over in his legal pad and slaps the cover shut sharply, breaking the standoff with one last, dismissive comment.

“Routine, Alexa. Stick to the routine. If it’s what brings you comfort, if that's the one thing you’re taking away from these sessions that actually helps, then stick with it. I’ll see you Thursday afternoon.”

….

Her afternoons vary, according to her therapy schedule. Her sessions take roughly an hour and a half, so that’s one block of time she doesn’t have to try and fill. On the days she isn’t having her skull cracked open, she can sometimes force herself to work on the files her company sends her way. Grunt work, brainless stuff that any first-year intern could do, but it keeps her on the payroll and covered by health insurance until the doctor clears her to return to the office.

Not that there’s an office to return to yet.

Grocery shopping for food she’ll pretend to eat later, making excuses to stay out of the apartment a little longer each day, watching the shadows of the buildings grow darker and longer until the sunlight disappears from the streets.

And the other shadow, the darkest of all, thick and solid against the brick and stone, pacing her, keeping track as she wanders through the broken city blocks. Sometimes she walks a little faster, pretends to not notice the black spot. Sometimes she pretends it’s keeping her company. With the most conversation she’s had in weeks taking place in her therapy sessions, she occasionally finds the imaginary company of her shadow stalker to be more pleasant than menacing.

Occasionally.

Eventually, though, she and her chimerical companion head back to the silent, encroaching walls of her apartment to begin the night routine.

........

The rest of Part 1 coming soon.

If you would like to be added to or removed from a tag list, please let me know.

[annewritesfic]

Happy Endings Don’t Exist

y’all i’m so attached to this au-

anyways! based on chapter 58 of cress by marissa meyer!

tw: discussion of blood, violence, chess has a pretty gorey nightmare in the first section (you can skip the first few paragraphs and pick up at “Chess opened her eyes with a gasp” to miss it), blades, pain medication, mention of attempted murder/murder, hallucinations

word count: 2275

In Chess's dreams, she was being chased by a wolf.

She was running through a field of crops with thick mud that sucked at her shoes, fog soaking her jacket and leggings, her lungs burning and her eyes stinging and her heart thundering. Dry leaves crunched underfoot, quickly being swallowed by the mud, and something in the back of her head dimly registered that she was being chased through the sugar beet fields on the Benoit farm back home. Even as she thought it, something began to glow in the distance - the lights of a farmhouse. Her house. The house she’d grown up in, the house that had always been safe and warm. If she could just make it to the farmhouse, then everything would be okay.

But no matter how hard and fast Chess ran, the farmhouse didn’t get closer. It almost seemed that for every step she took, the farmhouse was three steps farther away. She might’ve been running for hours or days or months or years, but the farmhouse got no closer. Eventually, the fog closed in and swallowed the farmhouse, the warm glow blinking out of existence.

She tripped, landing on her hands and knees with a shout of pain, mud sticking to her clothes and caking her braid. The damp wetness soaked into her bones, making them ache from the cold. She looked up, and just a few feet away was the wolf, crouched low to the ground, eyes flashing with hunger and anger. Her hands desperately searched for a weapon on the ground, something, anything, as the wolf got closer, and closer, and closer…

There. Something smooth and hard under her fingers. It was surprisingly easy to yank from the mud. She barely had time to look at it, to register the blade glistening in the moonlight under the layer of mud, the sanded wooden handle - an axe - before the wolf leaped in the air, jaws unhinged, sharp teeth reflecting in the axe blade. Chess lifted the axe reflectively, bracing herself, just moments before the wolf would’ve landed on her chest and ripped her to shreds.

The axe cut clean through the wolf, slicing it in two pieces from snout to tail. Its blood splashed all over Chess’s face and chest, and she heard twin thumps as the two halves fell on either side of her head. A choking sob fought its way up her throat, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, sure she was going to throw up.

Then the two halves of the wolf began to move, shifting beside her into two human-like shapes, each wearing half of the pelt. The fog began to clear as two hands reached towards her, and Chess stifled a cry - her grandmother and Cairo, welcoming her home.

Chess opened her eyes with a gasp.

Instead of her grandmother’s old military jacket and Cairo’s shining eyes, all she saw were steel bars. The air was filled with the scent of ferns and moss. The chatter of birds was so overwhelming she almost covered her ears.

A soft yip came from somewhere to the side, sounding concerned - the white wolf. Chess rolled over to look at him - on the other side of the pathway, the wolf sat, watching her. He tilted his head a little bit, and it struck her how much he almost seemed like the neighbors’ dogs back home.

Home…

It wasn’t the first time she thought it, but Chess was still shocked by the near-physical pain in her chest, the longing for the rolling fields and blue skies and familiar faces. She wanted to go home.

“He likes you,” said a voice.

Chess inhaled sharply and sat up, eyes searching wildly for the source of the voice. A girl about her age was sitting in her cage, hands folded in her lap, watching her curiously, close enough to touch. Chess tried to move away, but pain shot through her hand, and she fell back to the ground with a hiss of pain. Her hand was wrapped in bandages, but her pinky was the worst of it - during her trial, Levana had forced her hand to pick up a hatchet and use it on the pinky finger of her other hand, taking it off at the second knuckle. The pain had been bad enough that she’d wished to pass out, although she hadn’t. But while that was the worst of her pain now, it wasn’t all of it - there were scratches and cuts and bruises all over her entire body, some from the scuffle on the satellite and some from that awful Lunar boy she’d stayed with for several days and most of the aches from sleeping on hard floors for more nights than she could count.

The strange girl didn’t react to Chess’s fear. She sat quietly against the wall, her back straight, looking interested and curious. She clearly wasn’t another prisoner - she wore a pale pink dress that looked out of place against the dark regolith Chess’s cage was carved from. Her honey-brown hair tumbled around her shoulders in healthy, shiny curls, half of it tied up in a ponytail. Her eyes were a pale blue, sparkling with excitement, and Chess realized that her left eye had three scars below it, cutting in straight, parallel lines down her cheek - almost like perpetual tear tracks.

She was the most beautiful person Chess had ever seen.

And it was that beauty that made Chess realize she was wearing another glamour - another trick.

“Ryu and I were wondering if that was a very good dream or a very bad one?” the girl asked in a sweet voice. “You were mumbling to yourself quite a lot.”

Chess pushed away the lingering memory of the dream, the image of Cairo and her grandmother smiling at her. “Who the hell are you? And-and who’s Ryu?”

The girl smiled. “Ryu is the wolf, silly!” She turned to look at the wolf across the path. “Haven’t you been neighbors for four months now? Ryu, why haven’t you introduced yourself?”

The wolf blinked big yellow eyes at her.

The girl looked back at Chess and leaned forward, like she was sharing a big secret. “And I am your new best friend. But you mustn't tell anyone, because all the guards think that I am your master and you are my pet - they don’t know that my pets are my dearest friends of all! We will fool all of them, you and I.”

Chess struggled to comprehend what the girl was saying. None of it made sense, or answered Chess’s question.

The girl reached for a basket beside her that Chess hadn’t noticed before. It seemed like a picnic basket, lined with some soft, silvery material. “I thought that today, we could perhaps play doctor and patient! I’ll be the doctor, of course. You seem in need of some care.”

Chess sat up and pressed herself against the opposite wall. “You’re not a doctor.”

“I know. That’s why it’s pretend.” The girl smiled wider. “Aren’t you having fun?”

“No, actually, I’m really not.” Chess’s fingers pressed against the rough stone floor. “I’ve been mentally and physically tortured, I’m starving, I’m thirsty, I’m locked up in a cage in a goddamn zoo-”

“Menagerie.”

“-and I’m hurting in a thousand different places. And now some crazy girl comes in here and wants to play make-believe? Like we’re best friends or some shit?” Chess scoffed. “I’m good. Go away.”

The girl sighed and leaned her chin on her hand, resting her elbow on her knee. “You shouldn’t call me crazy. The guards don’t like that. Even though it’s true.”

Neither of them broke the silence for a moment.

“I know it’s true. You want to know how I know?” The girl leaned forward again. “The palace walls have been bleeding for years, but I am the only one who sees.”

More silence.

“No one believes me, no matter how many times I say it,” the girl continued. “Sometimes I can’t help but step in it, and then I track bloody footprints everywhere, and I worry that perhaps a wolf soldier will smell it and come for me. But if the blood was real, don’t you think the palace maids would clean it up?”

Chess tried and failed to think of an answer.

The girl pulled a small box wrapped in ribbon. “These are for you. Doctor’s orders are to take one pill twice a day.” She handed Chess the box with a wink. “It isn’t real medicine, of course. It’s just candy. Sour apple petites - they’re my favorite.”

“I’m not eating one of those.”

“Why not? It’s a gift.” The girl opened the box and held it out to Chess - four small, round red candies, shiny and smooth. Chess didn’t move, and after a moment, the girl set the open box down on the floor between them.

“What do you want from me?” Chess asked.

“I want to be friends.”

“A friendship based on lies?” Chess laughed sharply, humorlessly. “Of course you don’t mind that. You’re Lunar. Lying is all you know how to do.”

The girl looked at her lap. “I’ve only ever had two friends - two human friends. One became a pile of girl-shaped ashes when we were very little, and the other has gone missing. I don’t know if he’ll ever return.” She shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut. “But I asked the stars to send me a sign that he was all right, and the next day was a trial like any other trial, except standing before me was an Earthen girl who’d seen him.”

“Can you make sense? Please?”

The girl leaned forward, closer than she had before, close enough that Chess could almost feel her breath across her face. “Is he all right? Sybil said he was still alive, that he probably was supposed to be piloting that ship, but she didn’t say whether he’d been injured. Do you think he’s safe?”

“Who?”

The girl smiled again, almost wistfully. “Clark Winslett. Sybil’s guard. The man with the blond hair and the kind eyes and the smile that holds the sun. Is he all right?”

Chess blinked, baffled. She didn’t remember much from the fight on the Rampion, and what few memories she did have were blurry. But while her focus had been mostly on the thaumaturge, she did faintly remember a blond guard.

But the smile that holds the sun? Bullshit.

“I remember two people that tried to kill us,” she muttered.

“And he was one of them?” the girl pressed, seemingly unconcerned with the killing part.

“Yeah, I guess.”

The girl smiled gleefully. “Did he look okay?”

“He looked like he was trying to kill me,” Chess said. “But I bet my friends killed him first. That’s our typical procedure for people who work for your queen.”

The girl’s smile vanished. “You’re lying.”

“Nope. And he deserved it.”

The girl began to shake, almost hyperventilating. The wolf - Ryu - pawed at the bars of his enclosure, whimpering. Chess tamped down her guilt and told herself she wouldn’t call for the guard’s help.

The girl got her breathing under control and sat up, her hand resting on her basket. “I see. Well, I-I should go.” She moved as if to stand, but then stopped. “I wasn’t lying about the bleeding walls. Soon, the palace will be so soaked with blood that Artemisia Lake will be so red, even Earthens will see it.”

“I don’t care,” Chess said. “And I’m not going to feel sorry for you. Your glamours and your mind control - you people have built your entire civilization around those lies, and I don’t want anything to do with it.”

The girl crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Chess, but said nothing for almost a minute. Chess lifted her chin and looked the girl in the eye, refusing to be afraid.

“I haven’t used my glamour since I was twelve years old,” the girl said at last. “That’s why I have these visions. Why I’m going mad.”

Chess didn’t show her surprise as the steel bars of the cage opened and the girl ducked out, taking her basket but leaving the candy. “Your Highness,” said the guard as he closed and relocked the cage door.

Chess listened to the footprints retreat down the path, staring at the candies, her heart thundering in her ears.

Your Highness.

Princess Annleigh.

The queen’s stepdaughter.

Annleigh was rumored to be more beautiful than Levana herself - which was why the queen had given her those scars. Even Earth knew about her, about her unspeakable beauty, about her scars… though Chess had never heard about the girl going mad.

The candies lay in front of her still, tempting her. Chess had no reason to trust her, but she’d finished her one small meal hours ago, and she wouldn’t be fed until the next day. Her stomach began to ache, and her head spun, and while she was proud of how long she made it, eventually she reached for the box and lifted one of the candies from the shreds of paper it was nestled in. It was smooth as glass between her teeth and cracked easily, the warm, melty center sweet and sour on her tongue. Nothing, nothing, had ever tasted so good.

But it was nothing compared to the sensation that expanded through her chest, down to her legs and into her fingers. A feeling of warmth, of comfort, that took her pain away with it.

Chess managed a smile up at the glass ceiling, at the stars beyond it. Perhaps the princess wasn’t so cruel after all.

[tirednerd2012]

After he knocked Ian out, did Kirk call Barley to rub the betrayal in his face?

Yeah, yeah he did. Guys even I hate Kirk.

To say Barley was panicked was an understatement. The word fear didn't quite describe the pure terror that left him shaking behind his wheel. He had to force himself to keep his hands steady to prevent a wreck as he went as fast as he could on the highway.

He woke up to Ian missing, his mom screaming out because there was an obvious sign of struggle, and his friend, Kirk, gone. He tracked Ian's phone to somewhere eight hours away and didn't waste any time driving.

Ian's room was right above his. How did he not hear anything going wrong? What if Ian tried to call out for him? Barley knew he could be a heavy sleeper, but he didn't think it would be enough to cause something like this to happen.

He trusted Kirk. He had befriended the guy months ago. He was charming, nice, smart and overall, it seemed like a good friend to have. But now because of his ignorance, his little brother was gone.

His mind flashed to finding him in that cage with Drew when his ex kidnapped him. How Ian defended Barley, even though his older brother caused this whole mess to begin with. He remembered Ian's fear when Drew went in for the kill and causing a spell so powerful, it knocked him unconscious and blew up almost the entire cabin. How Barley didn't have a scratch on him from that event was still a mystery. Maybe Ian was subconsciously protecting him?

Then his mind went back to when he killed Drew. He slit his throat. Never told anyone about it, just insisted to his mom and Colt that Drew would no longer be able to hurt Ian.

He still couldn't look himself in the mirror. He knew he was a failure. He failed to protect his family. He failed in relationships. And now, he was a killer. He killed someone. Barley Lightfoot.

But if he didn't, Drew would have continued to go after Ian. Would he have to do it again? What did Kirk even want with Ian?

His phone rang on his dashboard and he saw Kirk's contact. He picked up immediately.

"Where the hell is my brother?" he demanded.

"Rush Motel, room 318. He's knocked out now, may be for a few hours. He inhaled way too much chloroform and he's... well, he's been in better shape," Kirk said, without losing any cool in his voice. He still sounded fine, like he wasn't doing anything wrong.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because you don't understand how powerful Ian is, and what could be done if he reaches his full potential. Barley, if you had grown a pair and realized this, you could make him take over the world."

"I know how powerful he is, you piece of shit. That power isn't yours and I'll be damned if you force him to do anything."

"By the time I'm done with you guys, you won't be able to save him."

"What are you planning?" Barley asked, through his clenched jaw. His hands shook harder and a car held on to his horn as he passed by Barley.

"I'm going to break both of you. I need to get rid of your hope if I want to break Ian," Kirk said. "This kid is convinced you'd do anything for him, but we both know better, don't we?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You bring him in more danger than anything. You brought Drew into his life and now, you've allowed me. You're the one that comes up with the dangerous quests that could very well kill him. And you're the one without powers. How can you save him from threats?"

"I'll find a way."

"Really? Because this whole thing could have been prevented if you just didn't trust me. I wouldn't have been in your house last night. I wouldn't have been able to go up in your little brother's room and take him. You didn't even hear me!" Kirk laughed.

Barley had to pull over for a second and force himself to stop trembling.

"I took him hours away before any of you realized. I reopened every scar Drew gave him and even added some of my own," Kirk said. "All because you decided to trust me. I mean, Barley, for the love of the gods, I could kill him right now and there wouldn't be a damn thing you could do to stop it. You can't get here in time. I'd be long gone and he'd be long dead."

"I shouldn't have trusted you. But I promise, whatever you do to him is nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you."

"Big talk for someone who isn't here," Kirk responded. "How does it feel, by the way? To have your little brother, the one you always try to look out for, be away from you and you know he's in danger? You know it's your fault. And this idiot thinks the world of you. He'd defend you to anyone. He had to save you from Drew."

"How do you know about the Drew thing? I never told you that."

"I was friends with him, Barley. That's how I learned about Ian to begin with. It all ties back to you," Kirk responded. "I just can't imagine how scared you must feel right now."

"You don't know me."

"Actually, I do. I know all about you and your family. I know everything I need to know about how to break Ian like a twig and make him do whatever I want. I know his physical and mental weaknesses. I know his shortcomings. I know where he lives, where he goes to school, where he goes when he's stressed. I've planned this for months, Barley. I'm too ahead for you to beat me."

"You clearly don't know what lengths I'm willing to go to."

"But I do. I know you killed Drew. No hard feelings, by the way. Honestly our friendship was never the best. Dude's kind of an asshole, but I'm sure you know that," Kirk said. "I also know that if I want to break you, I just have to take away Ian. But we have plenty of time. There's no rush and I'm not impatient like Drew."

"Don't do this."

"Too late," Kirk replied. "Well, I guess I better hit the road. I'd hurry. This place is sketchy as hell and I'm leaving the door unlocked for you. Wouldn't want anything else to happen to Ian, would we?"

"You're going to pay for this."

"Keep telling yourself that. I'll break it out of you eventually," Kirk said and then hung up the phone.

Barley put the address to the motel in and went as fast as his van would allow. His blood was boiling and he screamed. He didn't care if anyone in another car looked. He just wanted his brother.

He was so sick of putting him in danger. He just wanted Ian safe and sound. His little brother was the last person he could ever handle losing. And if something happened, it would be because of Barley.

He got to the motel hours later. His mind and heart filled him with self-hatred and regret as he ran into the room and then he felt like he could throw up.

Ian was laying on the bed, covered in cuts and bruises. Marks around his neck and several along his body. Barley immediately ran over and knew he would have to redo the poor bandaging. Kirk only did what he had to in order to keep Ian alive. He wanted nothing else.

His little brother looked broken. Like a puppet with the strings cut, sprawled out on the cheap mattress. He ran a hand through Ian's hair, but received no response or sign that Ian felt it.

Barley wiped the tears away as he lifted his younger brother in his arms. Ian immediately rested on his chest and curled closer, but didn't wake up right away.

He walked out of the motel, careful to not hurt Ian further.

"Barley?"

"It's okay, Ian. Save your energy. You're safe now."

"Kirk."

"Is gone."

"He'll be back."

"And we'll be ready," Barley promised as he got his brother in the van. He went over to the driver's side and looked over at Ian. He winced at his brother's scars reopened and other injuries. Meanwhile, Ian could hardly keep his eyes open.

"Barley," he said, as if he knew the amount of guilt and self-hatred the oldest Lightfoot was feeling at that moment.

You caused this, a voice in his head reminded him, though he didn't even forget that fact in the first place.

"Get some sleep, Ian," Barley said, softly. Ian must have gone through worse than Barley could physically see, because he didn't argue. Instead, he curled up against the passenger seat and immediately slept. Barley took off his jacket and put it around his brother.

I'm so sorry, Ian, he couldn't help but think.